


A Storm We're Meant To Ride

by casket4mytears



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Airports, Canon Compliant Pre-S4, F/M, Finding Out What Matters Most, Ghost Lilly Kane, Gift Fic, Love, Marriage Proposal, Reminiscing, Top Gun (1986) References, Travel, Vacation, Veronica Mars Gift Exchange 2019, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casket4mytears/pseuds/casket4mytears
Summary: It’s just a piece of paper… or is it? A moment of clarity and advice from one of her oldest friends has Veronica reconsidering her stance on marriage.  An upcoming and long overdue vacation in a private beach oasis with Logan is the perfect chance to discuss taking the plunge.  The universe, however, has a wicked sense of humor... and perhaps an invaluable lesson for LoVe to learn first.Canon compliant through movie/books – I acknowledge no events beyond them except a few borrowed trinkets.  HEA guaranteed (this is true LoVe – you think this happens every day?)Rated T for light swearing and sensuality.  A 2019 Holiday Fic Exchange gift in 3 parts for the dynamic duo of CubbieGirl1723 & MarshmellowBobcat, both of whom I adore.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 81
Kudos: 132





	1. Act One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marshmellow Bobcat (MellowBobcat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowBobcat/gifts), [CubbieGirl1723](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #When I hear "holiday", I think beyond the easy-going holiday coziness of waking up in delicious flannel PJs and heading downstairs to open presents, or driving across town to be with family. I think of planes and trains. I think of the holidays we take to far off places, the snapshots in photo albums.
> 
> Maybe I watch Home Alone too often at this time of year.
> 
> Toss such thoughts of travel itself in a blender with the turbulence of the last year, shake in a little screwball amusement, and you get what I think of as a fluffy comedy of errors to make things merry and bright in our shipper hearts. Like any good movie, we need a pinch of drama to kick things off, but have no fear: I am full of sentiment and swoon.
> 
> (Hey, I drew two-TWO!-incredible writers in this fandom. I must pull out ALL STOPS to gift them properly.)
> 
> Act One arrives tonight. Act Two shall arrive before the new year. Act Three, either before or just after. I'm overly ambitious, what can I say? Cubbie, Marshmellow, I do hope you enjoy the ride.
> 
> The title of our tale is a lyric from "Synesthesia" by Andrew McMahon.
> 
> Veronica's ringtone for cops is "The Police and the Private" by Metric, which shuffled up as I was outlining and made me giggle, so why not?

**  
Fan art by the lovely[Lorie03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorie03/pseuds/Lorie03)  
  
VERONICA**

_“Keep one eye on the door, keep one eye on the bag  
Never expect to be sure  
You're working for the police and the private, the pirates and the pilots…”_

The warm voice of Emily Haines filled the Tiburon as Veronica glanced at the call display to see which cop was triggering her custom ringtone. _Ahh, just the deputy I want to speak to_. She tapped her Bluetooth ear piece to accept the call, stealing a quick sip of coffee from her travel mug.

“Norris, give me good news.”

“ _Hey Veronica, you almost here?_ ”

Edging the speed higher, she made an abrupt lane change, cursing her inattention to the GPS. “I’m about ten minutes away. Any new tips?”

“ _My cousin says he left the Hilton on foot twenty minutes ago, but his bag’s still in the room and he hasn’t checked out._ ” Norris paused, his voice lowering. “ _I can only give you another half hour before I have to call in the cavalry._ ”

Veronica gritted her teeth. The cavalry, given jurisdiction, potentially meant Leo D’Amato, her persistent ex on the SDPD. And while she’d had a momentary flicker of nostalgia three years ago on the Manning case—a moment of _life could be easier with a guy like this_ —she’d dismissed it quickly as he’d begun texting her weekly during Logan’s time on the _Truman_. 

There was also the age difference in high school that she’d never considered, until Mac had pointed it out over a bottle of Pinot during their girls’ weekend in Santa Barbara. How her dad hadn’t dislocated his kneecaps for even thinking of dating his underage daughter was beyond her. Mac’s best guess had been a blind assumption that Leo’s uniform meant a respectable man wore it.

 _Jeez dad, the Sheriffs Lamb, aka Tweedles Dumb and Dumber, are proof that assholes carry a badge, if the nightly news isn’t enough for you_.

“No cavalry needed, Norris. I will nail this bail-jumping bastard and drag him to the station. You will conveniently come over from your cousin’s house, where you’re having dinner, and enjoy some long overdue recognition as you escort him home to Neptune to face the music. I collect my bounty Monday morning. Win and win.”

_“Alright, Veronica. Be careful. What this guy did…”_

Veronica smirked, merging into the lane for the I5 South. Norris’ high school crush on her had never truly waned. Unlike Leo, he kept his hands and thoughts to himself, respecting her relationship, although he did exhibit a protective brotherly streak now and again.

“I saw the pictures, Norris. I’m carrying and if I think he’s a risk, I will call it in and skip the approach. The bounty’s for information leading to the apprehension of Jordan Shephard, so I’ll still score. Talk soon.”

Ending the call, she gunned the engine, reviewing the facts of the case. Abusive investment broker Jordan Shephard, age 32, 09’er scumbag. When his wife Bethany had finally found the courage to initiate a divorce, Jordan had decided that he’d rather see her dead than pay alimony and child support for their two daughters. The plot was straight out of an Investigation Discovery show: faked intruders, robbery gone wrong, and a house fire that had nearly killed the kids. Jordan was sloppy and greedy, as all rich men are, taking out extra life insurance weeks prior and texting his hitmen on his own phone.

Last week, he’d made bail—rich men and their lawyers—and despite having his passport seized, he’d promptly packed a bag and hit the road. Local authorities were convinced he’d already fled into Tijuana and had lobbed the ball to the Feds, but Veronica’s instincts told her he was loitering in San Diego, waiting for the heat to die down. A few calls to contacts and a nudge to Norris later and sure enough, there were glimpses of Shephard around the Old Town district. 

Norris’ cousin worked in Old Town at the Hilton Garden Inn, and had tipped him off that a man matching Shephard’s description was staying there, under the name Kyle Ren. Veronica had snorted, thinking of the collection of _Star Wars_ paraphernalia in Shephard’s office. Entitled rich kids. It was like the Hearst ID card scam, all grown up. Norris had called her up, and together they’d come up with a plan.

Norris had been aching for a promotion, but Sheriff Marcia Langdon perpetually overlooked him. This was his chance; Veronica felt it in her bones. And if it put fifteen grand in the bleak coffers of Mars Investigations? Why the hell not?

Exiting onto Old Town Ave, Veronica drummed the wheel absently, scanning the sidewalks as she drove. Old Town San Diego was a tourist trap, the perfect place for a skeezy murderer to hide. Thankfully, it meant it was also a perfect place for a PI to blend in and people watch. The heart of the district was nestled near Whaley House, which would place her within walking distance of most of the bars and restaurants. If Shephard had left the Hilton on foot, chances were good he’d stepped out to get food or a margarita.

She lucked out: the lot on Congress actually had a few spaces, and she hastily parked, stowing her camera in the trunk and checking her revolver. Her feelings on firearms remained mixed: they killed, they ruined lives, but they were a necessary evil of her job, and she took hers seriously. Safety on, ammo loaded, holster secured, she headed north on Arista, into the heart of the thrumming tourist district.

 _Where to begin?_

Plastering on a smile of tourist wonder, she meandered towards the cluster of shops on San Diego Avenue and struck gold near Mermaid Cove. He’d dyed his hair dark brown, masking his cliché California blonde, and he’d grown out a few days’ stubble, but that cocky sneer and unusually angular jaw were impossible to conceal. Ten feet away, popping a piece of salt water taffy in his mouth like he hadn’t just disposed of his wife like a fast-food container, was Jordan Shephard.

Veronica lifted her phone, pretending to text as she snapped a photo of her subject. Just in case he evaded her, she wanted an image of his new look to pass around. Her DSLR would be better, but the extra weight would have slowed her down for a chase. And Shephard _would_ make her chase him. The guy was a coward.

Casually, she walked through the shifting clusters of tourists and college kids looking to get wasted, pretending to glance around at the scenery, but never losing track of her prey. She made it within five feet of Shephard before an unexpected turn of events: the bastard glanced in her direction, eyes wide as saucers, and promptly bolted.

“Oh, come _on_!” she groaned, pursuing him.

Being petite and slender had its advantages in crowds—she could pass through small gaps in throngs of people, cut corners like an aerodynamic champ—but it also came with downsides. Namely, she couldn’t simply barrel through people like Shepard, who had no qualms about endangering his ten year-old daughter and thus, she shouldn’t have been shocked he’d knock over an elderly woman in his desire to evade capture. The gap between them widened and soon, Veronica found herself at the junction of Conde, Linwood and San Diego, flipping off honking cars and scanning wildly for the wily jerk.

“Goddamn it!”

Edging back onto the sidewalk, she took a deep breath and regrouped. _Think, Veronica. What are his options?_ Four restaurants sat on this busy block, along with the Whaley House museum. Of course, he could have kept running, but she sensed he was keeping true to strategy and trying to lay low until the heat died down, before bolting back to the Hilton.

_Maybe I go back there and wait for him to fetch his bags?_

No, not worth it. The guy had access to at least thirty grand in cash. He’d abandon the bags. Plus Norris would be calling in SDPD soon. She glanced at her phone and cursed beneath her breath. _Five minutes._ She really needed this bounty. But stepping inside the wrong restaurant could cost her everything. He could slip away into the night while her back was turned. 

_Systematic search_ , she decided. _Drive him west._

Crossing the street towards the _Cocina_ on the corner, a flicker of light in the periphery caught her eye. Her gaze darted to her right, where a flash of blonde hair fluttered on the breeze at the entrance of the El Campo Santo Cemetery. 

“Huh?”

Veronica blinked hard, taking a half-step towards a crowd of tourists speaking in Spanish. A tour guide rattled off facts about the cemetery, she assumed—her Spanish was broken now, although passable enough to get by for the basic needs over the border—to a mildly interested crowd. As she craned her neck around them, her heart pounded wildly at the ethereal sight in the centre of the cemetery.

In the middle of the small cluster of graves, dressed in a gossamer ivory dress, stood the translucent form of Lilly Kane.

“Veronica! Come on, hurry!”

“Lilly?”

Veronica stumbled forward, past the tour bus troop and cutting into the cemetery, ignoring the mutters and angry grumbles of people around her. As she neared Lilly’s smiling form, her friend danced away behind the Sheriff’s Museum, twirling barefoot in circles with a wide smile.

“Come _on_ , Veronica Mars!”

Her case abandoned, she gave chase to a new quarry, pushing her way through meandering passersby, a lump lodged in her throat. It had been years since she’d seen Lilly, let alone heard her speak—and the skipping spectre terrified her.

“Lilly, wait!”

“Death waits for no one. You know that,” Lilly replied solemnly, slipping around the corner and out of sight.

 _No, no, no_. Feet pounded soft grass and dirt as she rounded the corner of the museum, ignoring a mildly concerned security guard’s warning. As her body fell behind the shelter of the stony structure, she heard it:

A shot rang out in the streets of Old Town San Diego, and then another.

Lilly appeared beside her, her ghostly hand caressing her cheek. Her touch was cool, but electric. Veronica’s breath hitched, unable to speak as the screams and shouts of the crowd receded to a droning hum.

“You’re not invited to my party yet,” she whispered, blowing a kiss before fading into the walls of the museum.

Clutching her chest, Veronica slumped to the ground, staring at the slug lodged in the cracked stone of a grave that moments ago, she’d been standing in front of, her heart heavy with understanding. 

_Those shots were meant for me._

* * *

It was past three when she finally turned the key in the lock and stumbled into her beachfront flat. She reflexively bent down to keep Pony from bolting out the door before chiding herself. _She’s with Dad, Veronica_. Having no idea how late the stakeout would go, she’d asked him to take her for the night. It was as much for his benefit as hers: he was clearly missing the companionship of a dog, and walking Pony was good exercise for his hip, according to his doctor.

Unlike Veronica, Pony obeyed her father. She was starting to suspect her dog was a flirt who preferred men in general. She still couldn’t get her to obey a single command consistently, despite her best impressions of Logan’s tone and inflection. But her father? Pony was a dutiful pup, sitting and heeling on command without so much as a yap of protest.

Tossing the paperwork for her bounty on the counter, she poured herself a glass of wine and stepped out onto the balcony, desperately in need of air. 

After a moment of _I could have died_ panic, she’d scrambled to her feet and headed back into the fray, following the trajectory of the shots to Café Coyote, a popular restaurant with two levels, including an outdoor patio with a perfect angle to take aim at Veronica in a busy intersection. Had she bothered to consider that Shephard would be desperate enough to _kill her_ , she would have searched it first. Instead, she’d stood on the streets like a sitting duck, worrying about a payout.

 _Never again_ , she admonished herself as she gulped her Cabernet. _Assume the worst of people_.

Rushing inside the restaurant, she’d found the weasel hiding in the bathroom and Tased him. A few zip-ties and a call to Norris later, and she had delivered one armed and dangerous fugitive to SDPD for transfer, along with new charges and further grounds to revoke his bail. She had cited Norris’ collaboration as playing a direct role in the apprehension of Shephard prior to his flight into Mexico, while he’d praised Veronica for a swift apprehension that prevented loss of life. 

Win and win. And yet, she’d spent the drive home feeling like a loser.

In her mind, she’d thought of Lilly, and how she was the only reason Logan wasn’t receiving notification from his CO of her death. For all of the times she’d expressed her fears of waking up to _the call_ about Logan, he’d never once complained about the hypocrisy. He’d told her once or twice that he accepted it was the “price of admission” for being with her, a phrase she tried to take to heart.

He’d come a long way from their Hearst days and his demands to drop cases when danger reared its head. His acceptance was admirable—perhaps because he now understood what it was to find meaning in a sometimes dangerous career.

Still, just because he’d accepted she _could_ get hurt didn’t excuse her carelessness. They always came back to each other—that was the deal. 

Settling into a patio chair, she sipped her wine and stared at the ocean, watching the waves lazily lap at the soft sand. They’d lucked into their rent-controlled paradise, a perfect compromise for their needs: for Logan, it was close to the ocean’s grounding energy; for her, the affordability allowed her to split bills 50-50, a point of pride that made it feel like _their home_. It also meant they didn’t need to use the tainted money of Aaron Echolls, something neither of them cared to touch. Currently, it was collecting interest in various investment funds, with monthly allowances diverting to Trina and Charlie—neither of whom bothered to call Logan regularly, to Veronica’s annoyance.

The few times she’d brought it up, Logan would smirk and shrug it off. _“Oh well, two less plates at a wedding, right?”_

Weddings… Veronica drained her wine glass, swiping at her mouth as a dribble escaped the corner of her lips. Between her father’s _I’m not getting any younger_ comments, Wallace’s recent nuptials to Shae and her blind catch of the bouquet (her arms were folded across her chest and it had plunked on top of them!) and Logan’s occasional quips, the writing was on the wall: they needed to have a marriage discussion.

“Why ruin a perfect thing?” she muttered, heading back inside.

 _Because it would make Logan so happy_ , her mind whispered. 

“He knows I’m never leaving him,” she told the empty apartment, rinsing her wine glass. “He knows I would die for him. That he’s the only one for me. A ring and a mile of taffeta won’t change that.”

A marriage in ruins had nearly gotten her shot tonight. _Just more proof of how unnecessary the whole institution is_ , Veronica decided as she changed into one of Logan’s _Go Navy_ tees and a pair of his boxers. Her close call had shaken her up and her skin felt chilled. These were the moments where the inability to crawl into his arms and fall asleep to the reassuring beat of his heart pained her most.

Tapping her phone screen, she opened up her email and sent him a message:

_Missing you tonight, so much._

_If you can call, any hour, any time, wake me. Call me. I love you, Logan. Three weeks can’t come soon enough._

Hitting send, she crawled under the covers and hugged his pillow to her chest. Three more weeks and he would be on leave for a whole month of vacation, starting with a blissful week in Hawaii. They’d splurged on a resort that promised ample privacy and a sprawling beachfront suite of their very own. 

_One whole week, just the two of us. No phones, no cases, just Logan and me._ Squeezing his pillow tighter, she brushed aside a tear. It sounded like heaven on earth. With a long, loud yawn, she closed her eyes and thought of his warmth surrounding her, hearing him whisper her name softly in her ear…

_The cerulean water rippled softly as a light summer breeze skimmed the surface. Veronica’s bare feet took tentative steps along the stone pathway, mindful of the empty lounger chairs and the open copy of Vogue magazine, abandoned upside down atop a tiny side table. Two large, pink floating chairs bobbed gently in the centre of the pool, ominous and beckoning._

_Her toes hooked over the pool’s edge as she forced herself to peer down into the depths, terrified of what she might find. As she leaned over, a hand gripped her ankle, yanking her into the water._

_“SHIT!”_

_Veronica fell into the balmy water, splashing and spluttering in her black bikini as strong legs propelled her quickly to the surface. Musical laughter trilled behind her, followed by a playful splash._

_“Every time!” Lilly Kane hooted, swimming away. “You really need to learn to hold your breath, Veronica Mars. The boys enjoy it. **Trust me**.”_

_Veronica rolled her eyes, splashing Lilly in retaliation. “Or you could stop scaring me like that! Ever hear the one about the girl who cried wolf?”_

_“Oh, I’ve met the Big Bad Wolf,” Lilly replied coolly, climbing into a floating lounger and adjusting her gold bikini. “He devoured me, like all wolves do. And then you cut me out of his wicked stomach, and set me free. But we’re not here to talk about villains, Veronica.”_

_Veronica swam lazily to the centre of the pool and hoisted herself into the empty lounger. “Then why are you here, Lilly?”_

_Tying her hair in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, Lilly smiled. “We’re here to talk about heroes. Like me. You’re welcome, by the way, for that bad-ass save. I was in Ibiza when I realized you were in trouble. I had to work fast.”_

_“Thank you, Lilly. That was too close… Wait, Ibiza?”_

_Lilly laughed, swatting her arm. “Do I really look like the kind of guardian angel who sits around on a cloud, playing a harp? No freaking way! I need to ROAM. Which is perfect, since Logan roams the world, too.”_

_Veronica sat up straighter, nearly tipping the floating chair. “Do you know where Logan is right now? Is he okay? Is he lying to me when he says this mission is routine? Is he—“_

_“Dead girls tell no tales,” Lilly chided. “I can’t tell you things like that. But he’s a hero, Veronica. You both are. You’re clearly soul mate material. Don’t worry, I’m totally not mad.”_

_Veronica fidgeted with the string of her bikini bottoms. “You’re okay with us? It’s always bothered me, just a little.”_

_“Why do you think I told you to wear red satin?” Lilly winked, stretching out her legs. “That man loves you in bold colours. He loves you, period. And you love him, right?”_

_“So much, Lilly,” Veronica replied hoarsely._

_“You know that man wants to marry you. You’re a detective!” Lilly declared with a flourish. “You’ve detected that?”_

_“He’s subtle, but not that subtle. But Lilly… my parents. YOUR PARENTS. Logan’s parents… We already have a great relationship. We have love, and commitment—“_

_“And really hot sex?” Lilly prodded. “Logan was great in his rookie season. He must be an all-star now. DON’T DENY IT.”_

_Veronica felt her cheeks flush crimson. “He could definitely go pro.”_

_“I knew it!” Lilly shrieked. “Oh, you lucky, lucky woman!”_

_“I am.” Veronica stared at the water, thinking of the bullet lodged just feet away from her in Old Town. “Who gets a third, fourth, fifth chance with the man they love? Logan sees my imperfections and he loves me for them. He just gets me, Lilly. I don’t need a fancy princess dress and a certificate from the government to stay with him until I die. I’m just going to do it. I’m better around him, and I hope he’s better around me, too.”_

_Lilly hummed softly, dragging her fingers slowly through the water. “So you’re basically already married. ‘Til death do you part. Why not just do it then?”_

_“Well, if we’re already doing it, then why do we need to get married?” Veronica countered. “It won’t change anything, except the balance in our savings account.”_

_“No, see, you’re wrong, Veronica.” Lilly reached out, pulling Veronica’s lounger close enough to hold her hand. “You two are not normal. You’ve both been abandoned and neglected by shitty parents in your lives. You’ve both cut out on each other when things have gotten hard, you especially.” At Veronica’s indignant look, Lilly rolled her eyes. “I’m a ghost. I see **everything**.”_

_Reluctantly, Veronica accepted that maybe she did have a habit of bolting when things got messy in the past. But they were three years into their relationship—the longest they’d been together—and surely that was proof that she was a different woman now?_

_“Look, it’s not about the Vera Wang. Logan hates pretension. He’d marry you in jeans and a t-shirt at city hall and hold the reception at freaking Mama Leone’s if that’s what you wanted.”_

_Veronica giggled, turning her head towards Lilly. “I know he would. The romantic in him would find it sentimental. Our first unofficial date, in his opinion, was a drive to Mama Leone’s.”_

_“SEE? Our Logan is a closet mushball, and maybe you know you’re staying until you die. Maybe he knows that too, deep down. But making that official? Saying it out loud, telling the world—it means something to him, especially after what his mom did, you know?”_

_His mother’s suicide. She’d never considered that he would still struggle with those feelings of abandonment, even now._

_“It’s not about the white satin, Veronica Mars. It’s about the gift of a promise. And if there’s anything I know about you, it’s that you keep your promises.”_

_A promise… Was that all it was to him? She would promise it to him every day, if it made him feel safe and secure. She would give him that gift, if it would put to rest the lingering fears of a teenager who was abandoned by the only person he trusted to love and protect him—aside from her._

_Veronica blinked away tears, clutching Lilly’s hand tightly. “I love you, Lilly.”_

_“I love you back. Now get out of my pool and go give me something to swoon over. I’ve only been waiting for this happy ending for a billion years!.”_

_Laughing heartily, Veronica rolled into the water and swam for the ladder. Turning back to wave goodbye, she found nothing but crystalline water, shimmering and vacant, rippling beneath the sun…_

The trilling ring of a call startled Veronica from slumber. Her hand pawed wildly at the blankets, snatching up her cell and bringing the display closer. _Wallace_. A fortunate coincidence, she decided as she accepted the call.

“Hello?”

_Hey, Supafly! What are you up to?”_

“Taking a well-deserved day off after a rough collar last night,” she replied sleepily. “You?”

_“Shae’s off with her mom today, so I wanted to see if you had time to catch up and hang. It’s been a minute.”_

It had been a long time since they’d had quality friend hangs, and if she was really going to move ahead with the idea blossoming in her skull, she would need Wallace’s help.

“I was actually going to call you today. I could use some serious advice, Papa Bear.”

_“Something wrong?”_

“Um, no. No, it’s right, just… Well, remember how I used to say I’d never get married? So I’m thinking maybe I’ll scrap that and propose to Logan.” A long silence, long enough to worry her, followed. “Wallace?”

_“You’re serious?”_

Hugging Logan’s pillow, she sighed. “Very. But I want to do it in Hawaii in three weeks, so… help?”

_“I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Make coffee. Lots of it. And Veronica?”_

“Hmm?”

_“I’m really happy for you. He’ll say yes.”_

Her lips curved into a relieved smile. “Thanks, Wallace.”

* * *

**THREE WEEKS LATER: LOGAN  
Monday 09:00 EST**

Stepping off the plane onto the tarmac at Saratoga Springs NSU, Logan shook his head in disbelief and looked to Stewbeef.

“This last mission…”

“Fucking doomed, Mouth.” His hand stretched out and they slapped hands, beginning a series of gestures forming a convoluted handshake they’d invented on a long and dreary tour in the Persian Gulf. “You really wanna give all this up for Intelligence?”

“You jealous you don’t have any to be recruited?” Logan teased, jostling his shoulder. 

“I take it back: good riddance and fuck you very much,” Stewbeef quipped, laughing. “Serious talk: you be careful out there, alright?”

“ _Non sibi sed patriae_ , _”_ Logan mused. “Or was it _obliviscatur cerevisia, cupam detrahet me_?”

“Potato, po-tah-to!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan spotted an approaching ensign, his uniform uncomfortably starched, approaching in a hurried fashion. _Fresh recruit_. They’d all been there, making that fatal error of sore thumb _look at me, look at me_. Stewbeef followed his gaze, groaning.

“First this hunk of tin can’t make the final stretch to Sunny D, and now we got a 90 Day Blunder barrelling towards us.”

“Hey now, I was OCS,” Logan reminded him.

“Yeah, you were a rare 90 Day Miracle, Mouth, and even you took a little shaping up. Don’t try to deny it.”

Ensign Avery had arrived to collect Logan for a meeting with the Colonel—no doubt related to his first taste of Intelligence work on this latest tour. With a nod to Stewbeef, Logan followed Avery, his mind whirring with the impending changes on the horizon.

When his CO had approached him five months ago with the offer to move to Intelligence, Logan had resisted the change. His squadron was his family—a family that had held him together through difficult years until he’d found confidence and peace within. Being a pilot, rotating on and off the _Truman_ —everything had a rhythm and a purpose.

Intelligence, however, carried certain alluring perks he couldn’t deny. Intensive missions, with more impactful consequences. Less overt flybys, more covert reconnaissance. Analytics, strategy and team planning—a mental _and_ physical challenge. It was a compliment to be invited to transfer, and he knew it. 

The biggest perk: no more four and six-month rotations. His deployments would be more frequent, but would be far shorter, his CO assured him. A few days here, a week there. _Longest I’ve seen is a month_ , _Echolls_. _And there’s always a week of shore leave in between assignments outside the centres of excellence. It’s mandatory, given the higher risks of the missions_.

More time at home with Veronica… that was the dream. For all of her brave smiles and diligent efforts to minimize her case loads during his shore leaves, Logan was no fool. His career was taking a toll on her. There was a neediness in the way her body curved around his when he came home, a frenetic energy as they made love in those first few days when he’d return. On his last leave, she’d had a few fitful nights where she’d woken from sleep, flailing and crying his name in the dark. The relief on her face when he was _there_ in the bed beside her crushed him as he held her close, smoothing her hair and murmuring words of love and comfort until she drifted off anew.

The cost—the increased threat to his life—was his hesitation. He’d made a promise to her three years ago, one he was determined not to break. She, too, had made a similar promise after being held at gunpoint two years ago during an undercover operation at a seedy bar with a backroom poker game. 

_We always come back to each other_. That was their mutual vow.

Taking the promotion to Intelligence meant straining the limits on that promise. He’d seen it for himself on his first taste, shadowing the team on a reconnaissance mission, monitoring a major drug smuggling operation off the coast of Lebanon. To say things had gotten… fiery would be an understatement. His evasive manoeuvering skills had certainly come in handy, more so than they had in years.

 _If I take this transfer_ , he told himself, stepping into the Colonel’s office, _I have to propose. She has to know that she has my heart, now and forever. I never want her to doubt that. I want her to feel that love everywhere she goes, just in case._

Salutations exchanged, Logan settled in for what soon became a troubling meeting. Oh sure, there was the promotion piece—and he accepted, because life was too short to not spend more time with the woman he loved. But then, there was the issue of the plane.

Their mechanical failure—the minor issue they’d stopped to have addressed here in Saratoga Springs—had turned out to be major. Logan and his squadron were stranded in New York State for the day.

“Sir, respectfully, my leave begins today, and my partner and I are scheduled to fly tonight for a long overdue vacation to Hawaii. Permission to leave base and arrange civilian transport?”

“Where were you flying out of, Lieutenant?”

“San Diego International, sir.”

The Colonel whistled low, leaning back in his chair. “You better check the news. Nobody’s flying in or out of San Diego today. It’s why we’re holding here. The air space is jammed.”

Logan reached for his phone but halted as the Colonel raised a hand. “Permission is also denied. The reconnaissance mission you were privy to—the Admiral wants to debrief in person. Obviously, we can’t get you to San Diego, so we’re flying you out to NAS Meridian in Mississippi. Once the Admiral is satisfied, we’ll see about getting you to LAX, maybe.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You leave in half an hour. Dismissed.”

Logan hurried into the hallway, pulling up the news on his phone. He groaned as he scrolled through the article on CNN. A massive strike at San Diego International, coupled with widespread protesting, had shut down the entire airport. All security staff had walked out to protest poor working conditions and a recent ICE raid on the janitorial staff, and other workers were protesting in solidarity. The public were arriving in droves, and angry passengers were starting fights. Power had been cut to the airport to prevent unauthorized commandeering of equipment.

_Veronica. Had she made it home?_

Logan hit her speed dial preset as he moved briskly through the base corridors, acknowledging higher ranking officers as he passed them. Straight to voicemail. Her phone was off.

_Shit, had her testimony been rolled over to the morning?_

Veronica’s schedule, like his, was equally tight for their trip to Hawaii, as she’d been subpoenaed as a witness for a corporate espionage case she’d worked last year. While the dirty dealings had occurred between a disgruntled employee and an outfit in Silicon Valley, the client’s head offices were in Boise, Idaho and the criminal case was being tried there. She was slated to testify yesterday, but if she’d been held over, or recalled this morning…

Firing off a text, Logan took a deep breath. All he could do now was focus on getting to LAX. They could re-route their flight from there and be in Hawaii by tomorrow, sipping champagne and wearing as little clothing as possible. 

First things first: he needed his belongings—including a certain engagement ring he’d purchased before this latest tour of duty—and to load in for his debrief in Mississippi.

* * *

**VERONICA**

**Monday 12:45pm EST (10:45am MST)**

“Excuse me! Sorry! Running late, sorry!”

Veronica pushed her way through the crowd of passengers congesting the arrivals roundabout at Boise Airport, her carry-on bag rattling along the sidewalk. She was furious, flustered and about twenty minutes away from missing her flight to Denver. And if she missed _that_ flight, she’d miss her connection to San Diego, which meant she wouldn’t have enough time to get home, re-pack and make her evening flight to Hawaii with Logan.

If that happened… well, the idiot prosecutor on this case was going to feel the wrath of a Veronica from years gone by. Cancelled credit cards? Try cancelled credit history, just for starters. She’d waited four months for this vacation, the last three weeks of which she’d been anxiously preparing a marriage proposal she was still petrified to deliver.

Rushing up to the check-in counter, she thrust her confirmation and passport across it and bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet. “Hi, I’m so sorry I’m late. I was a witness in a court case and they held me over for a potential redirect this morning without any warning.”

The airline employee, an unhurried middle-aged man with wiry white hairs protruding from his ears and a twangy accent that was strangely soothing, gestured to the board behind him. “No need to fret, darlin’. This flight’s been delayed two hours for weather issues outta Quebec. You got time.”

“Two hours?! No, this can’t be happening,” Veronica moaned. “Is there any way to transfer me to a direct flight to San Diego? There was nothing available online when I booked, but I’m willing to go standby. My boyfriend serves in the Navy and we’re flying out on our first vacation in two years tonight.”

The employee— _Arthur_ , his tag read—shook his head sadly. “Oh hon, you haven’t been following the news, have ya? San Diego’s shut down. No flights in or out. I’d try and get you into LAX, but everything’s full up already and with the redirected planes, they’re threatening to cancel flights themselves.”

Her vision blurred as her hands gripped the counter for stability. “Shut down? I don’t understand. What happened?”

Patiently, Arthur explained the protests and strike currently shutting down the San Diego airport and surrounding highway, now flooded with passengers oblivious to the news and still arriving, disgruntled travelers redirecting _from_ the airport, and protesters fighting through police barricades to lend numbers to the fight. Sixty flights, caught in mid-air, had been redirected to LAX, with others turned away or cancelled. Even if the protest was resolved by midday, the ripple effect of delayed and cancelled flights would surely knock their trip to Hawaii off schedule.

 _Logan!_

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“Get to Denver,” Arthur replied. “More connections, more options. You might be able to get to LAX still, or San Fran. But I don’t want to change your itinerary until you’re actually there.”

“Okay. Okay fine, check me in and I’ll see what they can do in Denver. Thank you.”

Her fingers flew over the phone, swiping the unlock code and noting a waiting text message from Logan. Opening it, her heart sank.

_Our plane had mechanical issues, never made it to CA. Touched down in NY, routing to MS. SDI is a mess. Check the news and keep me updated. I’ll call you when I’m out of debrief. I love you, Veronica._

Damn it. If Logan had made it home, she would throw her hands up and say screw it, arrange a flight from Denver straight to Honolulu. Logan could pack for her, meet her there. But if he was being routed to Mississippi ( _the Navy had a base inland?!_ ), that had to be a bad sign.

Her carry-on weighed and tagged, boarding pass in hand, she made her way to security check, breathing deeply to remain calm. _It’s still early,_ she told herself. _Maybe they’ll sort out San Diego by the afternoon. Maybe Logan will make it home still. Don’t panic, Veronica. It’s going to be fine. He made it home safe and that’s the most important part_.

She submitted to the grind of airline travel: security check, bag scanned, hand over pass. Surprise! What luck, she’d been chosen for _enhanced security screening_. _Step into full body scanner, feel disgusted and invaded. Hate the world for being a dangerous place. Think of how Logan works to keep it safer_. 

Dragging herself to her gate in defeat, Veronica slumped into a chair and tapped out a text to Logan:

_Heard the news about San Diego. No flights left from Boise to LAX or San Fran. Flight to Denver delayed two hours but airline insists it’s my best bet to get home. The Navy is rolling on the river?  
Love you. Call me._

Phone clutched tightly, she watched as flight after flight changed status on the board, one word glaring at her like a cosmic middle finger: _Delayed… Delayed… Delayed…_

There was only one way she was getting through the next two hours without losing her mind. Scrolling through her phone, she hit dial and tapped her toe impatiently. Her free hand fumbled in her purse, digging into a zippered compartment bearing a small black box. She turned it over in her hand as the phone rang twice, three times, four…

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…”

_“Hello?”_

“My life has become a series of events so bizarre, so systematically hell-bent on derailing my plans, that all I see is a giant neon sign, flashing in front of my eyes: _You and Logan shouldn’t get married_ ,” she blurted out, flipping the box open to reveal a gleaming platinum band. “Is this a mistake?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who has Veronica called to talk her down? What shenanigans have I cooked up for Act Two? Where will LoVe end up in America? You'll just have to subscribe and find out, now won't you?
> 
> (Feel free to take a guess. I WILL give you a hint: they're not making it back to San Diego...)


	2. Act Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #Thank you for all of the lovely comments so far! This is where we enter the middle of our film, aka the comedy of chaos. Who did Veronica call? (Your comments amused me so much, and you're about to see why)  
> Where will LoVe end up and why?
> 
> Let's see what happens.
> 
> Cubbie, MB, fasten your seatbelts and please ensure your tray tables are in the upright position. Expect a little turbulence.
> 
> (Please also note, workplace readers, that we are going to push against the limits of this T rating at the end of the chapter. Choose your reading spaces wisely.)

**VERONICA**

**Monday 1:15pm EST (11:15am MST)**

_“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take a deep breath, Veronica,”_ Wallace urged her. _“Please tell me your flight made it back from Idaho before the shutdown.”_

“Nooooo,” Veronica whined, cringing at the sound emanating from her throat. “The prosecutor, who couldn’t litigate his head out of his own ass, decided that he wanted to _sleep on_ recalling me this morning for a redirect on the meeting between DiSantos and SupremaTech. That killed my plan to take a red-eye home last night. I got stuck staying in a murder hotel with a mattress made of lumpy oatmeal, where I slept three whole hours before dragging myself to the Ada County courthouse, only to be told that nope, I wasn’t needed.” Her boot angrily kicked against the grey tiles beneath her seat. “Of course I wasn’t needed. I went to Columbia, Wallace. My testimony was airtight and thorough!”

_“Ugh, I’m so sorry, V. San Diego’s a mess. Any chance of getting to LAX? I’ll come get you. I was supposed to meet a few faculty buddies for a game of ball this afternoon but I can cancel.”_

Propping the phone between her shoulder and ear, Veronica gently tugged the ring free of its velvet-lined confines. “I wish. My flight to Denver’s been delayed two hours. There’s nothing out of Boise to LAX or San Francisco that isn’t cancelled or booked. The airline told me I’m better to get to Denver where there’s more options. Logan didn’t even make it home this morning. His plane had mechanical issues or something? Navy dropped him in New York.”

Wallace whistled across the line. _“Alright, alright. I see where the doom and gloom is coming from. But you remember how my wedding day started? Thunderstorm that flooded the church basement? My tuxedo tore in the limo on the way to the church and my mom was stitching the seams so I didn’t show the guests my admittedly fine ass while I said my vows.”_

Veronica laughed, rolling her eyes. “Thank you, Alicia! I do not need to grade your ass, not now or ever!”

 _“You’re just jealous that I scored an A+ from the ladies at Hearst!”_ Wallace preened, clearly still proud of himself for his collegiate achievement. _“You listening to me, Veronica? Life happens. You love Logan?”_

“Of course I do.”

 _“And that man loves you, for some reason,”_ he teased gently.

“Hey!” The corners of her mouth crooked upwards as she turned the ring in her fingers, examining the inscription inside the band. “I have a lot of wonderful qualities.”

_“I’ll tell you what I tell my guys when we hit a rough spot: it’s not about this quarter, or even this game. It’s about the season. And as long as you work together as a team, you’ll come out of it as champions.”_

“Does Shae ever get tired of you turning everything into a sports metaphor?”

_“Nope. Because she’s the one who loves me as I am, just like Logan loves you exactly as you are. So take a deep breath, maybe grab a snack because girl, you are SCARY when you are hangry, and focus on getting home. The proposal’s the next game. Win this one first.”_

“Thanks, Wallace. I knew if anyone could talk me down, it would be you. Plus my dad has no idea I’m asking him yet,” she admitted.

_“Really?”_

“I don’t know… Maybe it’s a pride thing? I always swore I wouldn’t get married, so if it goes wrong—and I know you’re giving me that look through the phone, so stop it—I just… don’t want to deal with his questions. Does that make sense?”

After a long silence, Wallace spoke. _“Yeah, I get it. But your dad would be telling you the same thing. He’s a smart man and he sees more than you think.”_

“But if I don’t bring it up, he won’t bring it up first. It’s the Mars tradition!” Veronica chirped with fake enthusiasm. Glancing at the board, she groaned. “Oh my God, _why?_ ”

_“What’s wrong?”_

Tucking Logan’s ring back inside its box and returning it to her purse, Veronica growled. “My two-hour delay just became three hours and I have no idea why. Gotta go sleuth it out, Papa Bear.”

_“Don’t Tase anyone, Supafly. Think of Hawaii.”_

“I’ll do my best,” she muttered, ending the call. “But no promises.”

* * *

**LOGAN**

**Monday 3:05pm EST (2:05pm CST)**

Stepping outside, Logan surveyed NAS Meridian and its bustle of officers and employees. Debriefing had gone well, in his mind. It was nothing unexpected, given the nature of the mission. On the Intelligence front, he felt rather confident he’d made the right move.

All the same, he was more than eager to get the hell off base and onto a plane— _any plane_ —that would carry him to Veronica.

Two text messages waited as he unlocked his phone, and he eagerly opened them, hoping she’d managed to find a way around the increasingly chaotic scene at San Diego International. The Admiral had made it clear that the Navy was avoiding California’s airspace entirely today, so a ride home through official channels was off the table.

_Heard the news about San Diego. No flights left from Boise to LAX or San Fran. Flight to Denver delayed two hours but airline insists it’s my best bet to get home. The Navy is rolling on the river?  
Love you. Call me._

“Damn it,” he muttered.

She’d been snared too. And, as he scrolled down, things had not improved since that first message. An hour ago, she’d sent a YouTube link to an old B52’s song, “Private Idaho”, with twenty crying emojis.

He walked briskly away from the humming throng of workers, settling on a bench under a shady tree just beyond the din. Hitting dial, he only waited two rings before the all-too welcome sound of Veronica’s voice filled his ears.

_“Logan!”_

“Hey, Veronica. How are you doing?”

Her sarcastic laughter alarmed him. _“Oh, I’m having a fantastic day! Call Auntie Em and Uncle Henry. I’m heading over the rainbow, way up high.”_

“Over the rainbow? You’re not in Kansas.”

 _“Correct, and yet, a twister is delaying my flight to Denver, thanks to a power outage.”_ Her voice cracked, and Logan winced, sensing how close she was to tears. _“There’s no place like home, Logan. Think clicking my heels might actually be faster than United at this rate.”_

His hand lifted, as if to caress her cheek, then fell uselessly into his lap. “I’m so sorry. I’m still in Mississippi. Navy’s refusing to enter California airspace so I’m on my own unless I want to go anywhere BUT home.”

_“Yeah, what happened this morning? Distract me before I’m swept into a funnel cloud.”_

He stretched his legs out, setting his cap down beside him. “Concerns with the fuel pump sensors on our transport led to a change in plans. We landed in Saratoga Springs since it was the closest base. Turns out, our concerns were warranted.”

_“Jesus, Logan. What if it had happened…. Wherever you were?”_

“There’s always a Plan B and C. Normally, they would have transferred us to another plane, shuttled us to San Diego, but with the chaos over California skies, we’re trying to avoid complicating the situation as a favour to our friends in the FAA.”

_“And Mississippi?”_

“Middle ground for debrief.” Logan frowned as the background chatter grew louder. “Everything okay?”

_“Oh sure. They just want us away from the windows. Apparently Mr. Twisty is touching down twenty miles away and as durable as this glass is, they’d rather not put it to the test.”_

His heart began to race as he pictured the skies over Boise growing dark, clouds shifting, wind picking up speed… Houses losing their shingles, debris scattered like pennies in a fountain… 

“Veronica, please be careful,” he urged.

 _“I’ll be fine. Bullets can’t stop me. Like a tornado will,”_ she scoffed.

The phone nearly fell out of his hand. “I’m sorry. Bullets?”

Over the line, he heard a few quiet obscenities muttered beneath her breath. _“Logan, I’m fine. The idiot completely missed me both times and—“_

He rose from the bench, his body alight with the need to _make someone pay_ for daring to shoot at her. Daring to try and harm the person who meant everything to him. Daring to have the audacity to harm a single hair on her beautiful head.

“Someone took _multiple shots_ at you? When was this?”

_“Three weeks ago.”_

“And I’m just hearing this now?” He kicked the trunk of the tree and immediately regretted it as a wave of pain rippled through his foot. “Veronica, you could have been killed.”

_“And like you can’t die every single day you’re on active duty? That’s the price of admission, right? It’s what I have to swallow down and live with, because I love you, and you love what you do. I love my job. It fulfills me. It gave me purpose when my world fell apart and I was alone, remember?”_

He grimaced, memories of Shelly Pomroy’s party flooding his mind. A year of insults, pranks and shunning Veronica out of misguided anger and betrayal. He was being a hypocrite.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I don’t want to fight with you. I just wish you’d told me about it during one of our calls,” he continued gently. “I want to support you when things like that happen.”

_“Logan, I didn’t want you to be emotional on duty. I wanted you to stay focused and come home to me… because I really need to see you. I do.”_

There was a softness to her words, a vulnerability that betrayed how shaken up her brush with death had left her. Logan sensed she’d suppressed it, shoved it down deep inside and carried on, because he wasn’t there. 

_One more reason why the move to Intelligence is the best decision I’ve made. I’ll be there for her when these things happen—or be home much sooner_.

“Knowing how close I came to losing you, I really, really can’t wait to hold you, Veronica,” he whispered hoarsely.

 _“I want that too, more than_ anything,” Veronica murmured. “ _And I can’t believe an airport strike and a tornado are keeping me from you and our vacation! Of all the rotten, astronomically bad luck!”_ A chime sounded in the background and Veronica hissed. _“They just delayed my flight another thirty minutes. I’ll never make it home with enough time to pack.”_

“Who says we need to pack?” Logan chuckled. “Veronica, as much as we hate to admit it, I’m well off. We deserve this, and what have we said about emergencies?”

_“This isn’t an emergency.”_

“I’d call multiple airport closures and the woman I love nearly getting shot an emergency,” he countered. “If you can get to Honolulu and bypass California, do it. We’ll buy all new clothes, toiletries, everything in Hawaii. Not like we’ll need a lot of clothing while we’re there anyway,” he demurred.

 _“If I was not sitting near a woman with two small children right now,”_ she whispered, _“I’d enthusiastically expand on your plan. Can you get back home?”_

“Navy won’t be any help, but I can check on flights out of Mississippi. Or maybe I should try to find a pair of ruby slippers and click my heels.”

_“Ha, ha! No, don’t bother. You head straight to Honolulu, while I… Denver…”_

“Veronica?” Logan glanced at his phone, noting he still had full reception. “You’re breaking up.”

_“…. Wind… Lo—“_

A short, high-pitched beep signalled a dropped call. Logan cursed, redialling Veronica and going straight to voicemail. _Damn it!_ The tornado had apparently shown up at Boise Airport, after all. Sending her a quick text, Logan grabbed his cap and stormed towards the mess hall in search of coffee. 

_She’s going to be fine_ , he told himself as his long strides covered the pale green grass. _Airport glass is strong and Veronica is the smartest woman I know._

 _Does Idaho even get tornadoes?_ Anxiety argued. _Do they have any idea of what they’re doing?_

“I should be there,” he muttered angrily. “We should be together, at home.”

The revelation that someone had shot at her—more than once—weighed heavily on his mind. He craved details: who was this jackass and could he arrange a private meeting in a government interrogation facility? What kind of gun did he use? How close had the shots come? He knew better than to trust Veronica’s casual-cool dismissal on the surface; if anything, her demeanor suggested she’d come closer to death than she was comfortable with.

His fists were curling, and that was not a good sign. Years of therapy had steadied his rage, but when it came to Veronica’s safety, he still saw red. Pausing outside the mess hall, he leaned against the wall and focused on his breathing.

_In for five, hold and out. In for five, hold and out._

They would have their Hawaiian vacation. She deserved all of the beauty and peace in the world. _Keep your focus_ , he reminded himself as he reached for his phone and made another call, desperate for solutions, or barring that, distraction.

_“Yello?”_

“Hey Dick, what are you up to?”

_Please don’t say sex, please don’t say sex…_

Dick’s laughter was loud, but thankfully no other voices were heard in the background. _“Not much, bro. Playing some GTA as prep for my shoot next week. Catalina Heat was the best thing I ever did, Logan. I’m playing a dirty cop who’s totally trafficking narcotics and leads the goody-goody cop on a high-speed chase through Chicago.”_

“And they’re letting you drive?” Logan asked, eyes widening.

 _“I wish! But I get to watch the stunt driver shoot it, which is pretty sweet. GET OUTTA MY WAY!”_ Dick yelled as Logan heard the phone drop on the other end. After a scrambling, he heard Dick’s voice again, accompanied by the familiar sounds of video game cars whirring and crashing. _“Sorry Logan, you’re on speaker. I’m at four stars now, gotta lose da po-po! You should come over and play a few rounds before getting LEI’D. Get it?”_

“Yeah, I get it.” Logan rolled his eyes, smirking despite himself. “And I would, except I’m trapped in Mississippi and at this rate, I don’t know if Veronica or I will make our flights to Hawaii.”

 _“Whoa, wait. You two weren’t flying out of San Diego, were you? DUDE! It’s the apocalypse. People are like, trading suitcases for shotguns. It’s Thunderdome. Charlize Theron’s there kicking asses and protesting ICE.”_ Dick paused in his enthusiastic ramble, the video game crashes and booms also silenced. _“You want me to go check on the missus, make sure she’s alright? I know she’s packing heat, but it’s mad crazy on these streets and I did train with that firearms guy for my movie.”_

“As much as I’m sure Veronica would appreciate your concern for her safety, she’s not in Neptune, either. She’s stranded in Boise with a delayed flight to Denver.”

Dick clucked his tongue loudly on the line. _“Dude, you two have the worst luck of anybody I’ve ever met, and I’m the guy whose brother walked off the roof of a hotel… WAIT. Are you on a Navy base in Mississippi? Like, with planes?”_

Logan nodded to a passing group of new recruits, fidgeting with his cap. “Yeah, I’m at NAS Meridian. Why?”

Dick hooted loudly, clapping his hands. _“Logan, why are you stressed? Just jump in an F-14, make like Tom Cruise and go pick Ronnie up!”_ In the background, he heard Dick drum on a table in a familiar rhythm. _“’Highway to Vacation Zone!’”_ Dick crooned.

“Dick—“

_“And then you can pop the big question, which she’ll totally say yes to because you’ve been making googly eyes since high school. Even I’m a big girl and root for you like we live on the CW, so I know this is a DONE DEAL. Cue the music: ‘TAKE MY BREATH AWAAAAAAAAAY!’”_

Dick’s falsetto wailing was Logan’s undoing: his hand slapped over his mouth as he full-on belly-laughed. The tension in his body released, leaving him no further ahead in this travel nightmare, but far more equipped to focus on it.

“Thanks, Dick. An F-14 isn’t exactly ideal for this rescue mission, but I’ll see what I can find.”

_“That’s what I’m here for. I’m a problem solver. Oh and Logan?”_

“Yeah?”

_“It’s all going to work out. You love her, she loves you. That’s priority numero uno. The rest is just details.”_

“Thanks, man. I’ll see you when we get back.”

As he ended the call and headed inside for a coffee, Logan reflected on how the world viewed Dick Casablancas, and how he knew him. Yes, Dick could be… _problematic_ when it came to his attitudes about dating, although he’d made efforts in the last few years to improve. Yes, Dick came off as superficial to many, and would hardly be mistaken as an intelligent man in conversation. But Dick possessed no filter and a certain simplicity in relationships—a pure belief in loyalty and honour among friends—and that had been the foundation of their friendship over decades.

Dick was the friend who would take you out to get wasted after a break-up, but he would also tell you if you needed to get off the couch and move on. Dick would believe you if you were accused of murder and insisted you were innocent. Dick would take a secret to the grave, even if it benefitted him to spill it. 

As Logan poured himself a coffee, he knew Dick’s idea to commandeer a plane was illegal, fruitless and absurd, but his good wishes for his proposal, his reassurances regarding Veronica’s answer and the spirit of the suggestion—that _just get there_ —were heartfelt. 

_No more distractions over three weeks ago,_ he decided. _I need to get the two of us to Hawaii. Whatever it takes… besides stealing a plane._

He sipped his coffee while searching flights out of Mississippi to Honolulu, noting that a “few tickets remained” for a flight late that evening. He hovered over the purchase button then shook his head, clearing the search and changing to a LAX destination. 

_No, Dick has one thing right: we need to travel there together. We’re probably not getting home to Neptune, but we need to fly to Hawaii as a pair._ Looking at the abysmal search results, he sighed. _Even if it means we arrive a day later than we planned…_

* * *

**VERONICA**

**Monday 5:06pm EST (3:06pm MST)**

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is our call for first class and priority boarding for flight UA677 departing for Denver, Colorado. All passengers with first class tickets or requiring special assistance, please proceed to the gate with ID and boarding pass ready for speedy service. We thank you for your patience…”

“You’re not welcome,” Veronica chirped sarcastically.

It was happening, really and truly happening. After a tornado—the first of the year in Idaho!—and delays due to power outages and a missing co-pilot, her flight to Denver was _finally boarding_. She’d sent Logan a quick text with her whopping single bar of service to assure him of her continued good health after the funnel cloud had passed, but now was the time to call him. 

On the second ring, her heart skipped at his warm greeting: _“Hey Veronica. You’re okay?”_

“I’ve survived worse!”

 _“Just because you have doesn’t mean you should take on more death-defying challenges, although the inherent hypocrisy, given my life choices, is noted,”_ Logan replied. _“So, did you end up over the rainbow? Any glass slippers on your feet? Strange talking scarecrows? Streets paved in gold?”_

“Not my day to visit the Emerald City. Whooshed right on by. Only took out a few cars in the lot down the street. But good news: they’re boarding my flight. Only five hours late!”

_“Let me guess: they’ve offered you a fifty dollar off coupon for the inconvenience, expiring in three months, with several blackout periods and other fine print exclusions?”_

Veronica laughed, tucking her water in her purse. “A hundred bucks, but the rest sounds right. The Boise DA paid, but I got the coupon, so I’ll take the win. How’s it looking on your side?”

 _“There’s an evening flight from Jackson, but I’m looking at flights to LAX instead. Might be able to get Navy transport to Seattle and grab a flight from there.”_ Logan’s voice was soft and soothing, a balm for her frazzled nerves. _“Honestly? I’ve been too worried about you to really look into it. Are you sure you’re okay?”_

“Not a scratch on me, besides the one from Pony’s enthusiastic desire to grab the Frisbee from my hand earlier this week,” Veronica quipped. 

The attendant’s voice drawled over the microphone, interrupting their conversation. “Attention passengers on flight UA677: at this time, we will begin boarding passengers in rows 5 through 10. Passengers holding tickets in those rows, as well as any passengers not already seated in first class or requiring special assistance, may proceed to the gate. Please have your ID and boarding pass ready.”

“I’m row 9,” Veronica told him.

_“Then you should get going. The sooner you get to Denver, the sooner we’ll be back together. Maybe I’ll ask to be flown there.”_

“Does the Navy have a base in Denver?”

 _“I don’t think so, but I could take a page from Dick’s book. He was saying I should swipe a jet and pick you up, shuttle us to our vacation.”_ Logan’s soft laughter tugged the corners of her mouth into a small smile. _“If only it were as easy as the movies, huh?”_

Extending the handle on her carry-on, Veronica reluctantly joined the queue. Beyond the gate, she’d have to silence her phone, which meant losing her one tether to Logan for another two hours… and the conversation had raised an intriguing question.

“Why haven’t you ever taken me flying?” she queried, pulling her passport and pass from her purse.

_“In a Naval jet? That’s pretty self-explanatory, isn’t it?”_

“No,” she scoffed, willing the line to move slower. “Any plane. People can rent planes, right? Or take flying lessons with a pilot’s licence or whatever? You’ve tried to teach me to surf, and you’ve never hesitated to demonstrate your other skills. Flying’s a huge part of your life.”

 _“It is. But…”_

“But?”

Logan remained quiet, his breathing the only sound as Veronica noticed she was third in line. She quietly told Logan she’d need to check in and went through the motions. Passport and boarding pass scanned. The scrutinizing look between her ID and her dishevelled appearance which frankly, more than any other occasion, resembled the _no smiling, washed out, DMV nightmare_ passport photo. She was directed through the tunnel and nodded her thanks, returning her attention to her call.

“Logan?”

 _“Two reasons,”_ he began. _“Flying is a skill I possess, but it’s not without inherent risk. Things can go wrong. You remember what happened to Bilbo, right? That was a routine landing, and that night… It went wrong.”_

“I remember.”

_“As skilled as I am, I’m not comfortable placing you at risk, especially after that accident. I’m just not. Maybe someday, I’ll be able to shake it, but for now… You’re my world, Veronica”_

She pressed her hand to her heart, pausing in the middle of the tunnel. “And the second reason?”

 _“When I come home from a tour, I enjoy being back on the ground. There’s a reason I like to go to the beach as soon as possible, feel the earth between my toes. Literally.”_ Logan laughs softly. _“You ground me, Veronica. You are my earth beneath my feet. That calm… I just want to enjoy that feeling when I’m home.”_

Veronica winced as an attendant waved from the door of the plane, urging her forward. She walked slowly, her arms aching to embrace him. “I understand, and I love that feeling, too. I have to board right now or they’re leaving me behind. I love you, Logan.”

_“I love you, too. Call me when you land.”_

“I promise. Talk soon.”

_“Be safe, Veronica.”_

She hurried to the plane, lifting her carry-on in her hand and mumbling an apology. “It’s been a long day and I miss him,” she offered as an explanation.

The attendant nodded knowingly as she examined Veronica’s boarding pass. “Is he in Denver?”

“We’re trying to get back to San Diego. He’s been on a four-month deployment with the Navy.”

The attendant clucked her tongue. “Oooh. That explains the sadness in your eyes. One flight at a time, Ms. Mars. Your seat’s the window in row 9 on the left hand side. Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

Edging down the narrow aisle, Veronica slung her bag into the overhead compartment and took her seat, grateful that her seat neighbour was already drowsy and seemed keen to nap. Closing her eyes, she imagined herself at home, wrapped in Logan’s arms in their bed. She focused on the feel of his body spooning hers, the way he enveloped her, as if to shield her from a storm.

 _One flight closer to you_ , she thought, willing him to hear her across the miles. _I will rent a car and drive all night if that’s what it takes._

If she was his comfort, his grounding energy, she would find him and tether him tonight. Nothing would stand in her way.

* * *

**WALLACE**

**Monday 7:09pm EST (4:09pm PST)**

“Hey Wallace, can you open up that second bottle of Cabernet?”

“You got it!”

Twirling the corkscrew in his hand, Wallace jogged up the steps to the upper deck, where the table was already set for two. Citronella candles burned as a precaution—a small price paid for a home nestled deep in Santa Barbara wine country—and a bottle of the region’s finest Cabernet sat unopened beside the controls for the state of the art speakers, currently piping Wallace’s favourite throwback mix of R&B jams throughout the expansive backyard. His companion fist pumped with a goofy grin as Missy Elliott came on.

“You recognize the queen!” He laughed, opening the bottle with an expert hand and leaving it to breathe.

“Are there people who don’t? Gossip Folks might as well be about Neptune High.”

Wallace hooted, jogging down the steps to punctuate that with a well-deserved high five. “And you made ‘em pay to broadcast it, one test at a time.”

Mac smirked, batting her eyes in exaggerated fashion as she turned over the vegetables on the grill. “I have no idea of what you speak, Mr. Fennel.” Wallace’s cell trilled in his pocket and Mac groaned. “If that’s Shae, tell her you will be getting a full serving of vegetables in this pasta and she can stop worrying about you regressing into some sort of bachelor hell of Pizza Pops and Cheetos.”

“Huh, it’s Logan. One sec, Mac, I should take this.” Swiping the screen, Wallace headed towards the small plunge pool, where the music was quieter. “Hey, Logan! Welcome home, man.”

_“Home… Well, I’m back in America, at least.”_

Wallace grimaced, glancing at his watch. “You’re still not back in Cali? Veronica told me there was a snag with your flight, but the Navy’s got more than one plane, right?”

 _“Funny thing about the US military: we try not to make the lives of other government agencies worse. They won’t enter California airspace for non-emergency purposes,”_ Logan clarified. _“I’m currently in Meridian, Mississippi, pacing the base and waiting for Veronica to confirm her safe arrival in Denver.”_

“She’s still not in Denver? Vee called me hours ago from the gate!” Mac glanced up, concerned. “Was her flight delayed again?”

_“A tornado, Wallace. I’m not a superstitious guy, but this trip seems cursed. I tried to book a late flight from Jackson to Denver, figured Veronica’s gotta be exhausted after travelling all day, but get this: the latest flight they had was cancelled due to an escaped cow trashing the cargo hold.”_

“A cow? 

_“Pure bullshit,”_ Logan quipped with a dark chuckle.

“I’m assuming the Navy can’t take you to Denver?”

 _“Not without a special favour from the Air Force, and I’d hate to ask. Veronica told me to just head for Honolulu, says she’ll meet me there, but after four months and all this bad luck, I feel like I should just get to her. What do you think?”_

Mac approached, handing him his glass of wine. Wallace nodded his thanks, settling on a poolside lounger as he drained half of his glass. 

“Nah man, I’m with you. Veronica is probably determined not to let you down, you know? You’ve both been planning this trip for so long, she just wants to give you that perfect vacay. But when you’re gone, she misses you. You know that.”

He heard Logan sigh loudly. _“I know, and things will be better from now on. I don’t need Hawaii. I wanted her to have the perfect proposal. I wanted to take her away from Neptune so she’d relax and put all her fears aside, and trust in how much we love each other. I don’t know, maybe I should put it off.”_

Wallace shook his head in frustration. “Alright, pep talk time. You know anything about basketball?”

_“Enough to follow the season, nothing too specific. Not sure what this has to do with the ring in my pocket.”_

“Milwaukee Bucks,” Wallace began. “Few years back, they had all of the pieces for what should have been a killer team. All of the talent to be the dream. Yet, they were like 8th seed and couldn’t put together enough wins to make a real run. The team shakes things up, fires Kidd—that’s their head coach. Brings in a new guy. Suddenly, with that new direction, they double their wins. It clicks, Logan. If you go check them right now, they’re killing it in the league. They’ve reached that potential everyone could see, but they couldn’t quite put together back in the day.”

_“Alright…”_

“My man, that’s you and Veronica. We started off on shaky ground. You bashed my girl’s headlights in. You were an asshole. But Veronica kept saying, ‘Logan went through some shit to end up like that’ and over time, I saw it. I saw how you two brought out a different side in each other. But back in the day, it never fully clicked. Shit kept going wrong. Potential went unrealized. You following me now?”

Logan chuckled softly over the line. _“Yeah, I think so. And I think Veronica would be rolling her eyes out of her head right now.”_

“Hey, I know my shit. You two have the potential and are making it click. Don’t go doubting that now because of the worst day in travel history. Just get to her first. Maybe you get to Hawaii tomorrow night. Who cares? The beach will wait for you, and it’ll still be perfect when you get there. And if the flights don’t work tonight, start driving and meet in the middle. After today, all she wants is you.”

_“Thanks, Wallace. I gotta go, I want to keep the line clear for when her flight lands.”_

“Anytime, my man.”

As he ended the call and took a large swig of wine, Mac waved to him from the grill. “Veggies are good. I’m going to go toss the pasta together.”

“I’ll come with you.”

He followed her inside, bringing the wine and topping up their respective glasses as she tossed the waiting noodles with a lemon-basil sauce and garnished the plates with the grilled vegetables. Sipping her wine, Mac leaned against the kitchen counter and narrowed her gaze at Wallace.

“So, Veronica and Logan are still not home?”

“Nope. Veronica’s just getting to Colorado now and I think Logan’s in Mississippi. I doubt they’ll make it back for their flight to Hawaii with all the cancellations at San Diego. Didn’t LAX cancel a ton of flights too?”

“Yeah, about fifty of them. I feel awful. They’ve spent years trying to plan a vacation around his deployments and her father’s rehabilitation, and now this,” Mac lamented. “So, Logan’s worried about missing the flight?”

Wallace took their dinner plates, carrying them out to the patio as Mac brought their wine glasses in the rear. “Oh no, he was stressing about proposing to Veronica. Thinking it was doomed if they didn’t make it to Hawaii tonight. Bad omens, etcetera.”

“Proposal?” Mac hesitated, glasses still in hand as Wallace sat the plates down. “Isn’t Veronica proposing _to him_ on this trip?”

Wallace smirked, taking his glass back from her. “Yup.”

Tucking her angled bob behind her ear, she tilted her head askance. “Did you _know_ Logan was planning a proposal?”

“Since my bachelor party.” Spearing a chunk of grilled eggplant, Wallace popped it in his mouth and hummed happily. “Girl, only you can make veggies taste so damn good!”

“Do _not_ change the subject, Wallace Fennel!” Mac insisted, setting her wine glass down. “Didn’t Veronica call you in a panic earlier over her proposal being doomed by bad omens, as you so eloquently put it?”

He felt his cheeks heat at her accusing stare. “Correct.”

With a toss of her head, Mac giggled. “So you’ve spent the day listening to the two of them panic about their respective doomed Hawaiian proposals, knowing full well they’re both guaranteed a yes, and as I overheard just now, have done very little to reassure them of this fact?”

“What, and ruin the surprise?” Wallace challenged, laughing.

Raising her wine glass in a toast, Mac grinned. “I guess it’s true, what was once said: some men just want to watch the world burn…”

* * *

**LOGAN**

**Monday 7:24pm EST (6:44pm CST)**

The phone rang but once before he pounced with a swipe to accept her call. “Veronica, hi.”

 _“Hey, sailor,”_ she replied lovingly. _“Made it to Denver, where I’m thirty deep in a customer service line-up from hell. How are you holding up?”_

“Just waiting to see where you can get to, and I’ll follow. Whatever it takes,” he vowed. “Oh, I got an alert from the travel agency. Our flight was bumped to depart from LAX at 7:35 local.”

 _“That’s a really, really tight flight time_ ,” Veronica moaned. _“I don’t think I can make that.”_

“I don’t think so, either, but if we can both get to LAX tonight, we can start fresh tomorrow and begin our vacation a day late,” he assured her. “I’m not far from Jackson. Let’s assume we’re not making that flight and find another one, alright?”

 _“Alright.”_ He heard her take a deep breath over the line as passengers bustled around her. _“Hey, do you remember the time we took off to San Francisco for a weekend after high school?”_

Logan remembered it well. It was two weeks before the start of classes at Hearst, and the proverbial stars had aligned: Keith was out of town for a week on a bail jumper case in Vegas; Veronica had a rare weekend off at the Hut; and he’d convinced her to not pick up a case at Mars Investigations for extra college cash. They’d jumped in his SUV for an impromptu weekend away in San Francisco. They’d eaten too much chocolate, spent an afternoon at the best spa in the city, and feasted at Waterbar at sunset. 

“I remember it. What was your favourite part?”

 _“Hmm… Walking the Golden Gate Bridge after dinner,”_ Veronica answered happily. _“The sky was so clear and full of stars, and you were so relaxed. It was the happiest I’d seen you in a long time, and that made me happy. Like I’d finally cracked the code, and maybe you could be free of all the pain you’d felt for so long… It was silly, because life doesn’t work like that. But for one night, I could dream it for you.”_

A lump rose in his throat and he swallowed hard. “Veronica, how I was back then…”

_“I know. Well, I know it now. What was your favourite part of the trip?”_

“When the spa mistook us for an engaged couple,” he blurted out, immediately regretting it.

What the hell was he thinking, bringing up _anything_ to do with marriage? Especially now, when the subject was so very real and soon to be up for discussion? Logan cursed himself inwardly and rested his forehead on the table before him.

Veronica giggled softly. _“We were so young. It was ridiculous of them to think that.”_

 _Screw it._ “I guess they saw something in us. A potential, maybe. I mean, we found our way back together eventually.”

 _“Maybe they did… Three more people. I’m sure they can get me to Honolulu. How much demand can there be from Denver in March? You should go ask the Navy to shuttle you to Pearl Harbor. You’ve got better options than I do, after all,”_ she noted playfully.

Logan reached for his bottle of water, unscrewing the cap. “If you can get a flight directly there tonight, I’ll do exactly that. But let’s make sure. My sole priority is getting to you tonight, wherever that is.”

_“But Hawaii—“_

“Isn’t you, Veronica,” he interrupted. “You know this trip, it’s not about the destination, right? It’s about being with you, uninterrupted, for a week. We chose the place because your face lit up when you saw it.”

Veronica laughed. _“My face lit up… Logan, I was just happy to spend a week with you, somewhere we couldn’t be disturbed. You were so excited about the resort, it was contagious.”_

“So what you’re saying is if I could find us a suitable yurt in the Arctic, you’d be fine with that?” he teased.

 _“If it came with enough heat for our recreational needs, and food, then yes! But good luck with that,”_ Veronica countered playfully.

“Your hunger is something I do not trifle with—in or out of the bedroom. Point taken.”

 _“At this point, I’ll happily lock myself in a room at the Camelot with you for the week for nostalgia’s sake and order in takeout, as long as I can be with you.”_ Logan heard a loud shuffling, and a huff of air. _“I’m next. Finally!”_

The Camelot… If they ever had children, they’d need to omit the whole _I thought Mommy was being kidnapped by a mad bomber and came to kick his ass_ portion of their first kiss story. Come to think of it, there were a lot of moments in need of a PG scrubbing for little ears.

“You ever think of how many of our big relationship moments are tied to dark or dangerous events?”

_“What? Like our first kiss?”_

“Our make-ups… Dating start-ups… Think about it, Veronica.”

_“Huh! Now that you mention it… You know, I prefer to classify it as on brand for us, given our clear adrenaline junkie tendencies. Ooh, my turn!”_

“Keep me on the line.”

 _“I was planning on it,”_ Veronica assured him.

Logan listened as the phone fumbled and scuffed along a surface, then Veronica began to speak in that tone he knew as her _I’m three seconds from ruining you, don’t test me_ voice. Within five minutes, their ordeal had taken a turn from hell to bottomless handbasket. Not only had Veronica missed her connection to San Diego by hours, she’d been removed from the flight altogether by the check-in counter in Boise through an error of some kind. A refund would be processed, she was assured—except that it was the Boise DA’s card, leaving her stranded.

“Veronica, charge my AMEX and we’ll invoice them,” he urged her.

 _“Oh, I plan on it!”_ she grumbled.

The second issue: there were no flights left to anywhere in California from Denver. All were departed, cancelled, overbooked with a standby list far too long for her to bother to join the queue… Logan could feel Veronica’s anxiety soaring, lacing every word as she pleaded for the airline employee to check again, to check other airlines… to find her a way home or to Honolulu.

 _“Honolulu?”_ the employee scoffed over the phone. _“I’m afraid that there’s nothing available until Wednesday morning.”_

 _“HOW?!”_ Veronica snapped.

“Veronica, breathe,” he reminded her.

Busy season, they learned, to their dismay. They’d booked their vacation during a peak travel period to the island. It explained the abysmal luck Logan had encountered in trying to re-route himself straight to the resort this afternoon.

Suddenly, Dick’s _steal a jet_ idea held promise. He’d considered chartering one, not that Veronica would have approved, but even _that_ option was shut down, thanks to flustered celebrities and businessmen thwarted by delays at LAX.

“I wish I was still in New York,” Logan grumbled. “I’m sure it would be easier to get you a flight to the east coast at this point, or I’d have more options to get to you.”

 _“Are there any flights left for me tonight?”_ Veronica pleaded.

 _“I’ll check for you, Ms. Mars,”_ he heard the airline employee reply wearily.

“You’re still here, Lieutenant Echolls.” Logan spun around, finding Admiral Mason standing behind him with a concerned expression. “At ease,” the Admiral quickly added.

“Yes, sir. My partner’s spent the day dealing with airline delays, and with the situation in San Diego, I haven’t had much luck getting home, either. She’s in Denver now, and neither of us can get back to California tonight, or to Hawaii, as we’d planned.”

_“We could get you to Alabama—“_

_“I live in California!”_ Veronica snapped.

“It’s not pretty,” Logan continued, muting his phone. “Sir, it’s been four months, and right now, I just need to get to her. I don’t suppose Denver is somewhere the Navy shuttles to?”

“Hmm, jurisdictional nightmare,” he admitted. “Find out all of her options and let’s see what we can do.”

_“Or Cleveland, but that’s a red-eye—“_

_“Ugh!”_

“Where can she get to the fastest?” the Admiral asked.

“Veronica? Is there somewhere you can get to quickly?”

With a heavy sigh, Veronica made the inquiry and was given the answer: Nebraska, leaving in an hour.

“Tell her to take the flight,” the Admiral told Logan. “We’ll get you there.”

“Get on that plane,” Logan relayed. “I’ll meet you there.”

_“Nebraska? Seriously?”_

“It’s better than the mattresses of the Camelot,” he mused. “See you soon.”

_“I better.”_

Hanging up, he turned to the Admiral in bewilderment. “Sir, why did I tell Veronica to fly into a nowhere town in Nebraska?”

“Two reasons: Offutt Base is located in Omaha and while it’s Air Force like Denver, my brother-in-law is a general based out of there. I’ll call in a favour. From there, we call a flight plan to _Nowhere, Nebraska_ because they have a tremendous sense of pride and not enough sense to scrutinize the ask.” With a wink, the Admiral jerked his head towards the landing strip. “Let’s get you transport. If we get you in the air now, you should beat your lady there by a few minutes.”

“I… Thank you, sir.”

“I have a wife, Lieutenant. I’ve been where you are. My wife would kill me if I didn’t try and make this right for you.”

Reaching beneath the mess hall table, Logan grabbed his bag and followed close behind. His eyes ached, his limbs were stiff and he was queasy from whatever had masqueraded as Salisbury steak at dinner. 

But knowing he was finally on his way to Veronica? He was the happiest man alive.

* * *

**VERONICA**

**Monday 10:24pm EST (9:44pm CST)**

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to North Platte, Nebraska! As we make our final approach to the gate, the captain asks that you keep your seatbelts fastened and remain in your seats…”

 _I don’t care what he wants_ , Veronica thought, impatiently staring out at the blinking lights dotting the tiny terminal. _I want off this thing now, so I can call Logan_.

On the bright side, having chosen a destination so far off the beaten path, United Airlines had comped their room for the night as an apology for the ten hours and counting of delays (oh, and the whole not getting anywhere _near_ Neptune bit). Four walls, heat, shower and snacks? Give her that and Logan and she would be a happy woman.

The man across the aisle unbuckled his seatbelt and she joined him in anarchy. _Take that, United!_ The plane was stopped, anyway. They were waiting on the stairs being brought to the door, as best she could see in the dim lighting. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, her knee bounced impatiently as the damn sign remained lit overhead.

 _Oh! I can turn my phone back on now_. Her battery was low, but she booted up, groaning in unison with her fellow passengers at the announcement that they’d be waiting a few minutes longer for another plane to clear the gate. 

_Hurry up!_

Was she screaming inwardly at the plane or her phone? She couldn’t say. The pleasant _ding_ as a text alert popped up brought a smile to her face. 

_When you get off the plane, go left._

“He’s here,” she whispered excitedly. 

Where _here_ was remained somewhat of a mystery, aside from the admittedly amusing _“Honestly, it’s not for everyone!”_ state slogan. But despite her addiction to sleuthing, the moment the chime signalled the end of her seat imprisonment, Veronica bolted to her feet and tugged her carry-on from the overhead bin as if the plane were on fire.

With the luck she’d had today, it wouldn’t surprise her to see flames licking her feet at this point.

Hurrying to the front of the plane, she was annoyed to be the third in line to exit. _Logan-Logan-Logan-Logan_ her brain chanted as the attendant unlocked the door with the gusto of a sloth. She was certain they’d wished her a good night, but she scurried away without so much as a glance, tromping down the metal stairs onto the pavement—and pausing.

The terminal was to her right. _But Logan said…_

“Veronica!”

Spinning around, she laughed in disbelief: the delay at her gate had been a _Navy_ vessel, now parked fifty feet away. Leaning against it, arms folded across his chest, stood a smirking soldier she knew all too well. 

“Hey sailor,” she called out coyly. “Looking for a date?”

Logan pushed off the sleek jet, strolling casually towards her with his bag in tow. “I’m waiting for my girlfriend. Have you seen her? Beautiful, feisty, smells of marshmallows and promises…”

Dragging her bag behind her, Veronica giggled. “Hmm, feisty I’ve got, and I do wear that perfume. But beautiful?”

Logan’s bag fell to the ground as his strides widened, covering the distance between them impossibly fast. Veronica, too, abandoned her suitcase, making it only a handful of steps before he was standing before her, eyes dark with need. She gasped in surprise as Logan’s hands swooped down and seized her by the waist, lifting her up to his eye level.

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” he insisted lovingly. “God, I missed you.”

“Show me how much,” she pleaded, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Could get arrested for that,” he demurred, “But a taste…”

“A taste,” she agreed enthusiastically, pressing her knees against the outside of his hips as his mouth claimed hers.

The world began to spin as her lips parted, her tongue eagerly teasing his into her mouth. It was only when Logan mumbled a curse and the spinning grew uneven that she realized it was more than the reeling, blissful feeling of _finally_ being back in his arms—Logan was _actually spinning them around_ , as he had a habit of doing.

“Better with walls,” she panted, breaking away with a giggle.

“Everything’s better with walls,” he growled.

 _Shit._ Where the hell was this hotel room United had reluctantly comped her? She had four months of lonely nights to make up for, _now_.

With one arm cradled beneath her ass like a seat, his free hand caressed her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. This has been the _longest day…_ ”

“I could make up for it…” His teeth tugged gently on her lower lip, sending a shiver down her spine. “…with the longest night…”

“Yes, please!”

Behind Veronica, someone cleared their throat loudly. Her cheeks flushed as embarrassment and lust warred within her, although the way Logan hugged her against his groin gave the latter a distinct advantage. Without breaking his intense stare, Logan’s hand raised above his head, fingers splayed. 

“Five more minutes,” he whispered playfully.

Veronica giggled softly. “Or we could just head for the hotel and let these nice people go home, Lieutenant.”

“But then I have to let go of you, and after the day we’ve had, I’m finding that painful… One moment, Bobcat.” Logan glanced over at the impatient airline attendant, flashing that charmer smile of his. “I’ll give you two hundred and fifty bucks to carry our bags to the taxi stand so I can keep hold of my precious cargo.”

“LOGAN!”

“What? We would have spent that on a limo in Hawaii tonight. Worth it.”

The young man, his brown hair dishevelled and eyes bleary from a long day at work, immediately perked up and rushed towards Logan’s oversized duffel bag. “Yes, sir! Follow me.”

Veronica buried her face in Logan’s neck, hooking her ankles behind his back for extra stability as he began to walk. For all of her qualms about spending money unnecessarily, this was one time where she couldn’t disagree with his logic. The last thing she wanted was to leave his heavenly embrace, after fighting so long and hard to reach it. 

“I mean, the hotel’s free, so the money we saved…”

“You’re catching on,” Logan murmured, kissing her cheek. “And think of all the terrible free meals we ate today in mess halls and on planes. If that doesn’t earn you a carry-to-curb service, what will?”

“I have to admit, this is pretty amazing,” she enthused as Logan carried her through the small terminal. “I’m not too heavy?”

Logan chuckled as an elderly woman eyed him appreciatively in their passing. “Veronica, you weigh less than my pack on some missions. It’s fine.”

“I’m just saying, a girl eats a lot of Oreos when she misses her man. I might have packed a few pounds on, despite my acute awareness of our minimal clothing vacation plans. Speaking of minimal clothing, I think I have enough to get me through Wednesday, and then it’s Nebraska’s finest or we need to get home.”

“Same. It’s going to be fine. Although, I think you’d look pretty hot in flannel and leather.”

Veronica rolled her eyes as they stepped through the automatic doors of the terminal entrance and arrived and what passed for a taxi stand in North Platte, Nebraska: two waiting cars in off-white, one of which the airline attendant waved down with gusto.

“He’s probably telling him to expect a huge tip from you, Mr. Moneybags,” Veronica whispered.

“If he floors it to the hotel so I can ravage you, he’ll get it. Have I told you I missed you?”

“Maybe once,” she purred, trailing kisses along his neck. “But I’m so exhausted from all this travel, you can remind me again.”

“Oh, I intend to drive the point home. Repeatedly.”

Their helpful friend from United Airlines loaded their bags into the trunk of the taxi and returned to their side, and Logan reluctantly returned Veronica to the ground. Without hesitation, Logan pulled his wallet from his back pocket and thumbed out the promised reward with a smile.

“Thank you for your help.”

“Thank you, sir. And thank you for your service.”

With a nod, Logan pulled open the taxi door. “Our chariot awaits.”

“Shouldn’t it be a carriage?” Veronica quipped, sliding into the backseat and pulling a slip of paper from her purse. “Good evening! We’re heading to the Tru by Hilton?”

The next thirty minutes were a torment of teasing touches in a taxi, Logan’s hands skirting the hem of her shirt as she tried to maintain composure and check-in at the hotel—emphasis on _tried_ —and briefly re-enacting their high school washroom makeouts in the mirrored elevator to the fourth floor, her foot kicking the Call For Assistance button by mistake. Logan smoothly apologized as she giggled into his shoulder, the two of them staggering into the hallway in eager search of room 403.

“There,” she happily cheered, dragging her suitcase to the door and fumbling for the keycard. “My expectations are so very low.”

“Clean room, bed, shower,” Logan agreed as the lock beeped and turned green.

To their surprise, the room was surprisingly nice, the hotel being the newest in the small city. The walls were a deep blue, the furniture a deep shade of oak and dressed in crisp white linens. The king size bed held court in the centre of the room, with a small grey desk on wheels in the corner beside the window. Veronica ducked her head inside the bathroom, nodding her approval.

“A shower that isn’t disgusting!”

“Then we can move on to what matters,” Logan replied, tossing her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

Veronica squealed, laughing as he slung her onto the bed. Lying on her back, she pressed up onto the backs of her arms but was met with a disapproving look.

“You stay right where you are, Veronica. I have to make sure every inch of you is exactly as I left you.”

A twinge of pain shot through her chest, thinking of their conversation earlier. This was normally _her_ ritual: the _scars and scrapes_ inventory after a deployment. Her brush with death had alarmed him, more than he was trying to let on. 

“Well, you’ll need to talk to your daughter about my left hand, but I’m in perfect working order,” she replied lightly. “But I need to inspect you too, Lieutenant. Make sure the Navy treated you as carefully as I demand.”

Kneeling before the bed, Logan unzipped her boots, tugging them gently off her feet. “We have all night. Me first.”

“In your uniform?” she asked hopefully.

Tugging off her socks, Logan smirked. “Well, this is an official inspection, Veronica. Your feet are as perfect as I remember them,” he decided, massaging them gently.

Her eyes rolled back and she groaned. After hours of standing and walking, she could probably get off on a massage, if he kept it up. But this was merely a tease, and the added allure of the uniform only amplified the tension. 

Logan took his time, pulling her to a seated position and removing her shirt next. Feather-light kisses and touches moved over back, her shoulders and arms as he inspected every inch of skin, tasting and caressing. His whispered approvals left her thighs clenching together impatiently, eager for his ministrations. 

Her bra was swiftly discarded, Logan’s mouth searching her skin for imperfections and finding none. He paused briefly, hovering over her breathless frame to stroke her hair from her face.

“Where did he aim for?” he asked solemnly.

“Centre mass. He hunted,” she admitted reluctantly.

“I’m getting you concealable Kevlar,” Logan insisted, kissing her over her heart. “You always come back to me.”

“Always,” she agreed hoarsely.

Her hands cupped his cheeks, pulling his mouth to hers, hungry but unhurried. Savouring the feel of his body pressed to her, the way hers lit up from within. Enthralled by how from the start, their kisses had never felt like a battle for, but a dance of dominance. 

Breaking away, Logan ran a finger along her abdomen towards the fly of her jeans. “I’m not done with my inspection.”

“Oh?”

A quick motion and she felt the button fall open and the zippered teeth begin to part. “This is sensitive work, Veronica. Please don’t distract me.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll lie here quietly,” she replied coyly.

Logan’s eyes darkened. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

 _I knew you would_.

It was a challenge that backfired on her, as she wriggled out of her jeans and found herself tantalized by kisses, nips and licks for what felt like hours, everywhere _but_ the one place she ached for his attention. And while at first she’d kept intentionally quiet, playing the game that they’d occasionally indulged in, by the third time he’d ghosted over her hips with nothing but the heat of his breath, Veronica’s thighs rubbing together so furiously, she was on the verge of chafing.

“ _Logan_ ,” she whined. “Your inspection is neglecting a very critical area.”

The cheeky bastard stood up, circling the bed as if deep in thought. “Let’s see. Beautiful face, inspected. Arms, intact, save that scratch from Pony on your hand. Naughty pup. Your breasts are still perfect, your stomach lovely. Your legs are _definitely_ as gorgeous as I remember… What’s left?”

Veronica challenged him with a lusty gaze. “I have four months of practice _inspecting it_. Care to get a demonstration? Because it needs _immediate_ attention.”

“As _intriguing_ as that sounds, that won’t be necessary—“

“Because maybe you’ve forgotten how to _inspect it_ ,” she goaded him playfully, sliding her hand along her stomach.

“I didn’t forget over nine years,” Logan growled, batting her hand away and reaching for the waistband of her panties. “Just for that, these aren’t surviving the night.”

“Whatever, you can buy me flannel ones with the Nebraska slogan: _Honestly, not for everyone_.”

As Logan tore the lacy garment off, he hummed appreciatively. “You’re joking, but I might actually do it. Now, about that _I’ll lie here quietly_ …”

To Veronica’s delight, she failed miserably in her challenge… repeatedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *checks pool* So, who had North Platte, Nebraska as their final destination? Anyone?
> 
> At least they're together, and they didn't have to take Dick's advice and steal a plane. Coach Wallace, Mac admiring his diabolical secrecy, what more could you want? OH RIGHT, a dual proposal. That's why this story needs THREE acts. 
> 
> Stay tuned and let me know what you thought in the comments box. Also: feel free to share your travel horror stories!  
> I have two super absurd ones I'll share if you're curious, both of which loosely worked their way into this chapter.


	3. Act Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #This was NOT supposed to take this long, but sometimes things happen.
> 
> Sometimes, you get tagged first on a round robin murder mystery and you end up writing a chapter of a whodunnit in four days in a panic (Are you reading the shenanigans in Murder We Wrote? It's fantastic, I wrote chapter 2 - go read it!)
> 
> Sometimes, you take a fall at work and get a concussion on top of your existing brain injury and spend ten days on frantic medical watch for brain swelling. Headaches and blurry vision make writing tricky.
> 
> Sometimes, you fall victim to a 10 day cold from hell (not Coronavirus, my friends, but having a weak immune system, it hit like a truck anyway). 
> 
> ANYWAY I AM SO SORRY BUT ALSO FINALLY ALIVE ENOUGH TO WRITE. And here we are, the grand conclusion of this Secret Santa comedy of errors, double proposal collision in the making. And since it's been a while...  
> *ahem*
> 
> PREVIOUSLY ON A STORM WE'RE MEANT TO RIDE:  
> During a bounty pursuit in Old Town San Diego, Veronica was nearly shot by her bounty, but rescued thanks to a little help - from Lilly.  
> Lilly appeared in Veronica's dreams and asked her what we all wondered: "Girl, why aren't you married to Logan yet?" After a heart to heart, Veronica decided that her impending vacation with Logan in 3 weeks would be a perfect setting for a proposal and asked Wallace for help in planning it.  
> On the day of Logan's return from duty, mechanical failures result in him landing in NY instead of Calififornia.  
> An airport strike at San Diego and a tornado keep Logan and Veronica in a series of events that take them anywhere but home OR Hawaii.  
> Wallace coaches them both through their anxiety, as each has been planning to propose on their Hawaiian getaway. Mac marvels at how evil he is for keeping this knowledge to himself.  
> Logan's colonel finally steps in to reconnect them... in North Platte, Nebraska, where they got intimately reacquainted. 
> 
> AND NOW, THE CONCLUSION...  
> (Lyrics contained in this chapter are taken from Synesthesia by Andrew McMahon, the song that titles this fic and serves as its theme song)

**LOGAN**

**Tuesday – North Platte, Nebraska**

Despite the late-night extracurricular activities they’d indulged in, four months at sea had set Logan’s internal alarm clock to _early as fuck, regardless of exhaustion_. One eye peered open, blearily staring at the 9:45 on the alarm clock display, and he sighed.

_Well, six and a half hours is pretty good._

He remained motionless, keenly aware of the weight of Veronica’s sleeping body curving atop his chest, her arm stretching across his frame. Her right knee was hitched over his, her hair a tangled mess obscuring her features, but he could just make out the hint of a smile beneath the honeyed locks upon her cheek.

His arm squeezed her closer and he sighed happily. This was what he’d missed most.Waking up beside her, able to touch her arm, or kiss her gently awake. Able to rouse her in more intense ways, should the mood strike him…

He would miss less mornings like these, now that he was moving to Intelligence. He’d have to be more cautious, however. Veronica had grimaced at the bruise on his shoulder from that first shadow mission, dismayed by the shades of maroon and jaundiced yellow.

 _Don’t cause her worry_ , he ordered himself. _Just be home, as much as possible._

He thought of the engagement ring, currently hidden in his tightly rolled-up camo socks. In these close quarters, it would be difficult to hide. He would need to inquire about a safe, perhaps, or hope for a flight to Hawaii today. If she stumbled onto it without explanation, it could spook her…

“Your thoughts are loud,” Veronica mumbled sleepily.

“Sorry about that.” He kissed the top of her head lightly. “Still on Navy time. Want me to leave the bed?”

“Nuh uh. Comfy.” She hugged him tighter, kissing his chest. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

Yawning loudly, Veronica opened her eyes. “Alright, I’ll get up. Sooner we’re up, sooner we get to Hawaii, sooner we sleep on the beach.”

“I can reach my cell from here. Don’t move.” His arm stretched out for his phone as Veronica burrowed closer. “I should call the resort, let them know what happened.”

“Mmm, good idea. I sleep.”

Tugging the covers around her, Logan scrolled through his emails and found the confirmation for their resort booking. _The Orchid Suite_ … More like the Orchid apartment. A single-story oasis with a sprawling master bedroom, an indoor steam shower, plunge pool, a kitchen and dining area, a private terrace and beach access. It offered free in-room wine and food market deliveries and, were you so inclined, cooking lessons from chefs. They wouldn’t have to leave the room for a moment, aside from walking along the beach. He only hoped that prepaying the suite meant all would still be in order to arrive today.

The cheerful receptionist greeted him and after listening to his tale of travel woe, took his name happily. She placed him on hold, the sounds of tropical birds and ocean waves filling the silence as Logan waited. The hold extended two minutes… three… four… and a sinking feeling settled in.

“Something’s wrong,” he murmured.

“What?” Veronica’s head popped up, eyes wide with concern. “Why do you say that?”

“This hold is taking a long time,” Logan explained, placing the call on speaker. “I just have a bad feeling.”

“Stop having it,” Veronica insisted, booping his nose gently with her fingertip.

_“Hello, Mr. Echolls?”_

The man on the line was _not_ the receptionist who’d previously greeted him. That was… concerning.

“Yes, who is this?”

_“My apologies for the long hold. This is Jeremy Kahale, general manager. My staff and I are admittedly a little perplexed and embarrassed by your call. Despite not receiving acknowledgement, your failure to arrive yesterday evening was taken as confirmation you’d received our urgent communication. Clearly, that was not the case.”_

“What urgent communication?”

_“Mr. Echolls, we placed a call to your residence yesterday. Several calls, actually.”_

“Neither myself nor my partner were home yesterday. I was in transit, returning from deployment with the US Navy, while she was returning from testifying in Idaho. Certainly, you heard of the San Diego airport closure, which would impact us, given our Neptune address?” Logan drew a deep breath to steady himself. “Suffice it to say, we never made it home. We’re both currently in Nebraska, with two working mobile numbers, both of which would have been provided to your establishment by my travel agent.”

 _“And again, you have my apologies, Mr. Echolls,”_ the manager stressed. _“Our staff certainly should have tried those numbers. We were trying to reach you to inform you of a fire on our property, resulting in significant damages to a number of our rooms and suites, including, I’m afraid, the Orchid Suite. As we had to move guests from impacted rooms to vacant rooms, we began contacting guests to cancel stays. As much as we would like to offer another room, even a lesser suite—“_

Veronica burst out laughing, rolling onto her back. “Of course,” she muttered. “Of course the suite caught fire.”

“Mr. Kahale, we had our hearts set on the privacy afforded by that suite. A full refund is sufficient.”

_“Our deepest apologies again, Mr. Echolls. The charges are being reversed and we have called our bank and requested expedited refunds for all impacted customers.”_

“Thank you.”

Ending the call, Logan turned towards Veronica, who was still laughing bitterly. “Now aren’t you glad I refused to fly there without you?”

“We are never going to Hawaii. It’s cursed. Pick another island, I’ll go. Or find that heated yurt with unlimited snacks.” She combed her hair back with her fingers, shaking her head. “The place caught fire and we weren’t even there yet!”

“Do you have your laptop?”

“Am I breathing?” Veronica joked. “You think the carry-on is for ten pairs of shoes?”

“Start searching. Pick a place: any island you want, we’ll go. I’ll call Angelica and have her work some magic,” Logan promised her. “Right after I make us some coffee.”

A quick circuit of the room revealed the shortcomings of Hilton’s discount chain: no ensuite coffeemaker, but rather a friendly placard informing him of the 24-7 availability of premium offerings in the lobby. Which, of course, meant getting dressed and heading downstairs. 

_A fire on the resort that took out our suite._ No picturesque hideaway, no sunset walk on the beach for his proposal. Four months of planning and rehearsal, shot. _I’ll rent out an entire island, spend the last of Aaron’s damn money to make this right for her_ , he resolved as he tugged on a pair of sweats and a faded tee. _Veronica will have the best of everything. We’ve never taken a proper vacation in our entire relationship_.

“Apparently, I need to fetch coffee from the lobby. Anything else you want me to look for down there?”

A naked Veronica, absently scrolling through resort reviews on Oyster, shrugged. “Hmm… Danishes, if they happen to have any? I’m hungry.”

 _Huh._ Her lack of enthusiasm threw him off. Settling on the corner of the bed, he ran his hand along the smooth skin of her back.

“You okay?”

Veronica nodded. “Hey, at least we weren’t _in_ the suite when the flames began. It’s just…”

“Hey, Veronica… you can tell me anything. I know you were looking forward to that suite. I was, too.”

Her hand fidgeted with the tangled sheets beneath her as she averted her gaze. “It’s just… _you_ were looking forward to the suite, Logan. I was looking forward to time alone with you. Finding paradise—that’s your expertise, not mine.” She waved her hand at the screen, shaking her head. “All of these are beautiful to me. I just want to go somewhere I can be alone with you. The beach is _definitely_ a nice bonus, but… you know all of this just makes me a little dizzy.”

“If you didn’t want to go to Hawaii, we didn’t have to go. I wanted you to be happy.”

“And I would have been!” Veronica insisted. “Because we’d be together. No cases, no Navy, just _us_. You wanted to spoil me, because being generous makes _you_ happy. The resort was a win-win.”

 _Wallace was right_ , Logan mused, reaching out to caress her cheek. “I understand. Alright, let me grab us coffee and then _we_ will pick a shortlist of destinations for Angelica to work her magic on. Sound like a plan?”

Veronica’s hand fisted in his tee, pulling him in for a soft kiss. “Perfect. And don’t forget to hunt for Danishes.”

“I would never make such a fatal error.”

Logan was relieved to find passable coffee awaiting him in the lobby, along with a selection of breakfast cereals, fresh fruit and chocolate croissants. Tucked to the side, his eyes lit up when he found one lonely cherry Danish.

 _Finally, something’s going right_.

Pausing at the desk, he extended their stay for another night, not wanting to worry about checkout times and juggling luggage. As the receptionist keyed the change, he made a few critical inquiries he’d neglected the night before, in his haste to undress Veronica and thoroughly reacquaint himself with her fine form. An intriguing answer had him reaching for his phone, tapping in a search and smiling immediately. 

_Definitely an option_ , he decided.

Returning to their room, he grinned as Veronica clapped her hands excitedly at the sight of the paper plate of goodies he proffered. “Cherry’s my favourite!”

Foregoing his usual healthy habits for a chocolate croissant—richly deserved after the day before—they searched through several travel websites, mulling the pros and cons of a few islands before settling on St Bart’s or the Maldives. 

“These all look rather… pricey,” Veronica mused, skimming a review in Condé Nast.

“I splurge because I care, right? And right now, I’m willing to spend anything to get us privacy, a beach and the vacation we deserve.”

Throwing her hands up, Veronica rose from the bed. “You’re right. I gave you free reign to spend whatever you wanted and I can’t take it back now. I’m going to grab a shower.”

“I’ll call Angelica and get her working on our replacement vacation, and be in to wash your back.”

She paused in the doorway, sashaying her naked hips. “Nuh uh, mister. Your idea of washing my back is not made for the weak hot water tanks of low-end hotel chains.”

“Then Angelica better clock overtime,” he growled, scrolling through his contacts.

As Veronica showered, he touched base with Angelica, who’d already heard of their Hawaiian disaster and was empathetic. She took his shortlist of resorts down and his instructions— _spare no expense, make it happen_ —and Logan turned his attention back to Veronica’s laptop. A quick check of the news informed him that while flights had resumed at San Diego, things were chaotic with rescheduled flights. 

_An evening flight home is probably best_ , he decided, and confirmed with a quick second call to Angelica. She recommended they take the 10:20pm departure to LAX and drive back to Neptune, and he booked it without hesitation. Stripping down, he joined Veronica in the shower, mumbling promises of _best behaviour_ he had little intention of upholding.

“Everything all set?”

Reaching for the soap, he lathered his hands liberally and began to massage her shoulders. “Angelica is working to secure a dream vacation and confirm a lack of fire, flood or other natural disasters. We have a flight to LAX late tonight, and I’ve extended our room here so we don’t have to check out and kill time in a tiny terminal all day.”

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Veronica purred. “And not having to hang around a terminal is also nice. Now we can stay in bed all day.”

Working his fingers down her back, Logan kissed her neck. “As much as I would love that, I actually think we should get out and see what the Cornhusker State has to offer. I mean, it may not be for everyone, but so far, it’s been pretty nice to me.”

Tilting her head back, Veronica stared up at him in disbelief. “What is there even to DO here in Nowhere, Nebraska besides listen to Bruce Springsteen?”

“Actually, there is something, a couple hours’ drive away… Up for an adventure?”

Turning to face him, she ran a soapy finger down his chest. “You know what? Fuck it, let’s go!”

With a soft kiss, Logan smiled. _And the plan begins…_

* * *

**VERONICA**

_“I've known you all my life, but I knew you long before that too  
Let's go dancing to the songs we wrote when we lived in the shadow of the moon  
  
And I see colors when I hear your voice  
Grab your wings, they're putting gravity on trial  
I see colors, I don't hear the noise  
Sometimes we're only flying for a while  
I could love you in the falling rain  
Grab your things this is a storm we're meant to ride…”_

Dressed in a cozy blue sweater and jeans, Veronica stared out the window of their rental car as the expanse of farmland rushed past, listening to the music softly playing from Logan’s Spotify daily mix while trying to gauge where they were headed.

Oh sure, she’d told Logan she trusted his mystery itinerary and didn’t need the answers. And she did trust that he’d found them an excursion that she would enjoy. But the detective in her never shut off, and as she studied the names and mileage counts on the scarce signs along the highway, she tried to conceive of what might lie ahead.

 _It has to be something very…. Nebraska_ , she decided. _Something we won’t find anywhere else_. Logan would never have torn them away from an opportunity for all-day reunion sex unless he’d found something unique to do.

“Two and a half hours, Logan. This better be something special,” she mused aloud.

“What, lunch didn’t win you over?” he teased.

 _Asshole_. He knew she was a sucker for biscuits and gravy, thanks to her first Thanksgiving invite at the Echolls home when she was thirteen. Lynn had loved Southern cooking, but as an actress, she’d denied herself anything hearty, save for holiday meals. Veronica’s eyes had widened as Lynn had walked her around the kitchen, explaining the traditional fare she’d had the kitchen staff prepare: sweet potato casserole; macaroni and cheese; cornbread dressing; and of course, buttermilk biscuits, perfect for dipping in thick gravy. She’d passed out on the couch after dinner in a food coma, to the amusement of her friends. 

“So, you’re really not going to tell me anything else about this mystery destination, other than it being camera-worthy? You know I could Google tourist traps in Nebraska and find it.”

“You could, but if you were going to, you would have already done that. I think you want the challenge,” Logan countered. “What if I offer you a distraction?”

“I’m not in the mood to repeat our humiliating encounter with Deputy Sacks from our Freshman year at Hearst,” Veronica chided playfully.

_I honestly don’t know who was more embarrassed: me, trying to pull my skirt back down; Logan, trying to zip his fly; or Sacks, realizing who he’d pulled over for erratic driving at one in the morning and cluing in on why said driving was erratic._

“The critical error was _mutual_ pleasure,” Logan replied coyly. “Someone needs to steer. Actually, I have some work-related news.” He hesitated briefly, glancing in her direction as he turned the music down. “I’ve accepted a promotion.”

A promotion… Veronica’s mind whirred with the potential implications. _What comes above lieutenant? Does that mean more deployments? Or a new base assignment?_

“Of course they promoted you, Logan. You’re brilliant,” she replied quickly, forcing a smile.

“Funny you put it like that.” Logan glanced at her, smirking as he caressed her cheek lovingly. “I’ve accepted a role in Naval Intelligence.”

“Wow… I mean, wow! Okay. That’s not flying.”

“I’ll still be flying, time to time, but no, it won’t be my primary role,” he agreed. “I won’t be deploying for six month assignments anymore, Veronica.”

Disbelief washed over her as she leaned closer to him. “Really?”

“There will be longer assignments, and I’ll be spending a lot of time in DC when not overseas, but most of my major assignments will be far shorter on this team,” he explained. “I’ll be home more often, and working to keep the world safer. Normally, I would have discussed a decision like this with you before responding, but I’m guessing you’re in favour of this change?”

“You had me at ‘home more often’ but how dangerous is Naval Intelligence?” Veronica probed, sensing there was a buried lede in this news.

Signalling a lane change, Logan hummed thoughtfully. “My old role, there was an inherent danger. You know that. Things could always go wrong, or by virtue of where we were deployed, things could take a turn. We discussed this.”

Yes, they had. She hadn’t exactly been in love with the idea, but she’d accepted it, reflecting upon their arguments in college about her dogged pursuit of the Hearst rapist at her own peril. 

“Okay…”

“Naval Intelligence… will be less of a low-level steady risk, and more short bursts of higher-risk. I’d compare it to your profession,” he added, casting a pointed glance in her direction. 

_Crap._ She loved that mind of his, but at moments like this, she hated it too. In her heart, she was frantically thinking of ways to shield him from harm; in her mind, she was chiding herself as a hypocrite. _You’ve been down this road, Veronica, and it only ends in misery_. _The reason Logan understands you is because he’s so much like you_.

“But you’ll come back to me?”

“Always.” 

The confidence and warmth in that single word reassured her, and she leaned into his shoulder with a sigh. 

“Logan? Could you have said no to this promotion?”

“Yes. I gave it careful consideration, and spent a few weeks shadowing a team first.” His fingers toyed with her hair, teasing her loose curls. “I made the best decision for us.”

Of course he had. Veronica kissed his cheek, stealing a glance at his cell phone screen. _Alliance, Nebraska._ She’d never heard of the place, but they were minutes away now.

“I saw that,” Logan murmured. “I’ll give you hints, if you want.”

“No, no, surprise me,” Veronica insisted, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Good. From what I understand, you really need to just… see it.”

Twenty minutes later, Veronica’s eyes widened in disbelief as they approached their destination. “What the… is that… I mean, it kinda looks like—“

“Stonehenge?” Logan probed playfully.

“Yes! Only it’s… _Oh my God, that sign said Carhenge!_ ”

Logan pulled slowly off the dirt highway into the small parking lot beside a small building deemed the _Carhenge Pit Stop_ and turned off the engine. “When I asked the motel receptionist if there was anything nearby that we couldn’t see anywhere else, this was the suggestion she gave me. I took one look online and well… I couldn’t resist.”

Grabbing her camera bag from the backseat, Veronica beamed. “Let’s check this out.”

Set in circular formation, in a replica of the famous European stone formation, were thirty-nine cars. Painted clay-grey, some balanced on their nose, others bridging across vehicles above them, the sun cast beams of light between the metallic pillars, creating shadows on the dusty earth beneath their feet. Veronica and Logan took their time circling the structure, Veronica snapping photos as they identified each vehicle in turn. Being a PI gave her certain advantages, but Logan’s love of classic cars gave him the edge.

“I feel like we’re a few weeks early,” Logan mused. “Spring Solstice, Carhenge. You, me, communing with nature and a 1962 Caddy…”

Veronica giggled, waving Logan in front of a vehicle emerging from the ground. “Well, call Angelica. This can be our new romantic getaway. There’s no one around for miles. Dirt ground. It’s practically a beach.”

They traded places, Veronica striking an exaggerated pose of contemplation as Logan took her picture. “We can grab a case of Bud from town, come here at sunset with a flannel blanket and a pick-up truck...”

Just beyond the borders of Carhenge proper lay additional structures, described as the Car Art Reserve. A dinosaur sculpture made from car metal awaited them, as well as a salmon springing from the earth in brilliant green. Veronica laughed as Logan feigned straddling the giant fish as if riding upon its back, a bucking bronco of the sea. Her camera rose, snapping a still frame destined for her office wall. 

Meandering past the “Ford Seasons”—four brightly coloured cars in tribute to Vivaldi—they came to a graffiti car meant to deter tourists from ruining the main attraction.

“Clever,” Logan agreed. “Care to leave your mark?”

Veronica dug through her purse, finding a black Sharpie. “What was that thing Shae said years ago… there you are!” Uncapping the marker, she searched the busy surface until she found a small, unblemished area. “ _How did you two not know you were soul mates? Your names spell out love!_ ”

Logan watched as she scrawled a replica of Shae’s tipsy doodle of explanation. “I thought you didn’t believe in soul mates?”

A perfect heart took form—Veronica had always excelled at drawing the shape—and with it, four letters: _LoVe_. Logan and Veronica. Stepping back to admire her handiwork, she was reminded of Lilly’s shoes and a pang of sadness struck her. _Lilly would find this hilarious. She would be dancing barefoot around these cars, laughing in the sun_.

“I don’t. But I believe in us,” she replied softly. “Soul mates implies there’s no work, that it’s just meant to be. We work at what we have, Logan. We fight for it.”

Logan’s arm looped around her waist, pulling her taut against him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Their mouths met in an unhurried kiss, the warmth of the midday sun heating her back. Her hand nudged her camera strap, shifting the unit to dangle along her hip, allowing her to press against his muscular chest. Straining onto her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Good idea?” he mumbled against her lips.

“This place is fantastic,” she agreed.

“Did you want to get back on the road?”

“Hmm….” Glancing around, Veronica spotted a bench near the Carhenge structure, painted in bright colours. “Not yet. It’s peaceful here. Why don’t we sit over there?”

Logan followed her gaze, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, let’s stick around.”

Her fingers laced through his, they made the walk along the dusty pathway through the art reserve and back through the looming structure of vehicles. As they walked, Veronica found herself lost in a flurry of thoughts about life, fate and choice. 

She believed in facts, in the power to choose a path and make the most of the hand life dealt you. Preordained fate? Bullshit. There was always a wildcard of free will, even if you found yourself in the orbit of the same people over and over again. 

Logan had choices in his life. She knew how much he loved flying, how dearly he loved his squadron on the _Truman_. They’d butted heads about it, until he’d been forced to dig into his darkest memories and lay bare the truth of all the Navy meant to him. A promotion for the sake of it wouldn’t appeal to him; that much, Veronica knew in her core. For Logan to choose to accept it—to leave behind the brothers who had kept him steady as he healed from his pain—he had found a reason more powerful than that brotherhood to change roles.

_Me. Being home. Us._

She reflected on their afternoon together, how even now, he stole glances in her direction, gauging her happiness. _He wants me to feel happy and secure. He wants to feel happy and secure, too._ _Lilly was right, about everything_. Their bond, and his ability to trust in its permanence, brought him joy and peace, just as knowing he was safe and loved her unconditionally brought her the same.

 _He always chooses me. I always choose him. That’s the secret to this working out_.

They settled on the bright blue seat of the rainbow bench, Veronica nestling her camera inside her bag. Tucking herself beneath Logan’s arm, she sighed happily.

“Honestly, Nebraska may not be for everyone, but I see why Springsteen felt like writing a whole album about the place,” she quipped.

“It’s actually a really dark album,” Logan countered lightly. “Have you ever listened to Springsteen?”

“If Courtney Cox has danced to it, so have I, but that’s about it. Don’t tell my dad, he loves The Boss.” Her brow furrowed as she glanced up at him. “Have you?”

“Something you need to understand about the military, Veronica: there’s always at least one Springsteen buff in a squadron.” Logan riffed an air guitar, jutting his lower lip as he sang. “ _Born in the USA!’_ ”

Veronica laughed, shaking her head. “So Dancing in the Dark, not a couple song for us? I’ll scratch it off the list for the future.”

“We already have a song or two. Unless you’re finally going to let me live my Patrick Swayze dreams and let us dance to Time of My Life.”

“You can even convince me to do a lift,” she teased.

“Could do it one armed. You’re feather-light.” Logan kissed the top of her head, squeezing her gently. “Hey, your dad used to hate me. Think we can convince him to re-enact the whole scene with us?”

“He never hated you. He was just overprotective and sorely mistaken about you. Once he knew everything about Aaron and the Hearst case… he softened over time.”

“I know. He was just being protective. We’ve had that talk, Veronica. Bygones.”

“What talk? When was this?”

Logan shrugged. “In the hospital after his accident, during one of your many runs to find him food more palatable than hospital mush.”

“Oh my god, he never stopped!” Veronica groaned. “I swear, they discharged him just to stop hearing him complain about the quality of the scrambled eggs on the breakfast menu.” 

“They were awful. He made me try them.” Logan shuddered. “Is there such a thing as boxed eggs, like instant potatoes? I think they were instant eggs.”

“Above and beyond the call of duty, Mr. Echolls.” She kissed his cheek. “Have I ever told you how much it meant to me that you spent those two weeks in the hospital helping me out?”

“Maybe once or ten times. You’re my family, Veronica. You and Keith. You know that.”

 _I do._ She smiled to herself, glancing over at her purse. _And maybe it’s time I make that official._ Was this a beach? No. Was this a romantic getaway? Yeah, she felt it was. They were reunited after four months apart, had spent an entire day fighting to be together, and Logan had found the quirkiest, most unique place in miles around to spend their one day in Nebraska visiting. 

_This is love. And that’s what marriage is about._ As her hand slipped into the inside pocket, she drew a deep breath. _Also, this sudden bravery might never happen again, so DO IT VERONICA. Logan won’t care where you propose. He’ll just be happy you did it._

As her hand closed over the delicate velvet-covered box, she turned towards him, steeling her nerves. “Logan, there’s something important I— _OH!_ ”

“Veronica?”

Her hand fell in her lap, ring box clasped tight, as she stared in wonder and disbelief at Logan kneeling in the dirt before her.

* * *

**LILLY**

The one good thing about being dead was you could go anywhere in the world, at any time.

Lilly’s favourite places were a resort in Nassau Beach, Bahamas where people from around the world came to mingle, mix and press up against each other in the sweaty clubs at night, and, when she felt the need for balance, Santa Eulalia (the quieter area of Ibiza). People watching gave her great joy, but toying with men and women who could look, but never touch—ghost and all—was half the fun. If she concentrated on the drinks she stole and swallowed, she could almost imagine that delirious delight of drunken debauchery, but to _truly_ feel it, she needed to surround herself with writhing bodies and sway among them.

Emotions were different. Lilly felt them, as real as she had when she’d been alive. Love, lust, anger, sadness—they all flowed through her still, shifting the translucent hue of her skin. She preferred the golden glow of lust and indulged it often. 

Hey, the man upstairs knew exactly who she was when she knocked on the door. 

Today, however, she was _not_ in one of her favourite places. She was in her idea of hell: a bland, small town, far from the noise and lights she loved. The water in the taps was scarcely clear, with not even a creek to dip a dainty toe in, let alone her beloved ocean. No clubs, no _fun_ … well, okay, maybe a _teeny_ bit of fun.

Her arms shimmered in a faint coral as her sandaled feet skirted along the pathway towards the hulking structure. _This is so freaking weird._ The things people did for love, right? Speaking of the subject, she spun around as a black Mazda swung into the parking lot and grinned.

“Took you long enough!” she teased.

They couldn’t hear her, but it was okay. She knew they would feel her. Of all the ones she’d left behind, they picked up on her presence the fastest. _She_ was the only one who could still see her—which was so lucky, considering how close she’d cut it in San Diego. But how was she supposed to know that Daddy Dearest would kill a PI to avoid capture instead of running like the coward he clearly was?

She’d followed him to jail that night, stomped on his stupid balls a few times as punishment. No one messed with her best friend. Since he’d almost killed his kids, the deputies let him suffer as Lilly dug a ghostly heel into Shephard’s scrotum and smirked.

 _“Your wife says hello,”_ she’d whispered in his ear.

Talking to strangers was exhausting. It took a lot of mojo, but the pallor of the goon’s face was worth the nap Lilly had needed on the shores of Nassau.

Kicking off her sandals, she ran her palms along the looming structure surrounding her. She’d been to Stonehenge a few times—the real one, at the Solstice. It was totally bad-ass, dancing beneath the moon. This was a surprisingly decent knock-off, considering it was built from painted cars. It reminded her of the fake Prada purses Veronica would buy when they were teenagers on their day trips to Tijuana. _Frauda_ , Lilly would call them. They’d break in like, 6 months—cheap leather and all—but Veronica thought they were hilarious. 

It wasn’t about the status for her, or a wannabe thing. It was about the joke. Lilly loved that shit.

Twirling in a circle among the stone-cars, Lilly’s white cotton dress fluttered around her legs. _You chose well, Logan. She’s going to love this._

Today was the big day. Lilly could _feel it_. These two had kept her waiting for a bazillion years, in her books, but something about their energy this morning had pulled her back to America. As Veronica took Logan’s picture in front of the car formation, Lilly stuck her fingers up, giving him bunny ears. A part of her hoped this time, she’d show up on the image. It was the one thing she’d never mastered as a dead girl, and it was annoying to not be perfect.

Logan and Veronica wandered away to examine other car statues and Lilly slipped her sandals on and followed eagerly, buoyed by the love rolling off of them in waves. How were they not married already? It was ridiculous. Piz? _Piz?_ She still hadn’t forgiven Veronica for that little detour, and especially the encore. 

Thankfully, she’d come to her senses and abandoned the floppy-haired loser herself, although Lilly had stepped in and cancelled Veronica’s plane ticket home to New York for good measure. Manipulating electronics was one of her specialities. Disappearing reservation? Check. Poor Piz and his mom’s stupid blowout. Boohoo. _You were never good enough for her_. 

Watching Logan gaze lovingly at Veronica, she beamed. _Look at him. Such a teddy bear, Veronica Mars. All for you_.

They’d come to a stop at a graffiti car, meant for tourists to deface, instead of ruining Carhenge proper with stupid scribbles of penises and initials. Lilly approved of the ingenuity. _Let people have their fun_.

“What was that thing Shae said years ago… there you are!” Lilly watched as Veronica pulled a Sharpie from her purse and began searching the metal surface for somewhere to scribble. “ _How did you two not know you were soul mates? Your names spell out love!_ ”

Lilly’s hand grazed Veronica’s and she immediately knew her intentions: a heart, just as she’d once doodled on her shoes. Veronica had a steady handy and a skill for it, but the metal had an imperfection that would ruin the left side if she wasn’t careful—and Lilly _could not have that_. Jaw clenched, she focused her energy on Veronica’s hand, guiding it smoothly over the bump.

 _Perfect!_ Lilly clapped approvingly as Veronica added initials inside: _LoVe_. 

“I thought you didn’t believe in soul mates?” Logan asked her.

“I don’t. But I believe in us,” she replied softly. “Soul mates implies there’s no work, that it’s just meant to be. We work at what we have, Logan. We fight for it.”

 _Yes! And now you can work on a WEDDING!_ Lilly groaned, pacing around in a circle. She loved this movie, but it was taking too long to get to the very best part. Although the bench was rainbow-fabulous and adorable, so _okay_ , they could sit there and make it the setting for the big day. Because it was surely today. Her skin was shimmering rose-gold from their presence, a love so intense she could barely contain it. Settling on a nearby boulder, she listened eagerly as Logan and Veronica teased each other affectionately, before settling into what felt like a prelude to something _epic_.

“Have I ever told you how much it meant to me that you spent those two weeks in the hospital helping me out?”

“Maybe once or ten times. You’re my family, Veronica. You and Keith. You know that.”

Lilly’s feet kicked against the dirt excitedly as Logan’s hand fumbled in his jacket pocket. _YES! I WAS RIGHT! He totally found the coolest, quirkiest, most Veronica place in Hellhole Nebraska and he’s going to PROPOSE._

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Veronica moving, too. Intrigued, Lilly watched her best friend’s hand disappear inside of her brimming purse and emerge with… _OH MY GOD, YES! Modern women buy rings and propose!_

It was so satisfying to know that talk at the pool had sunk in. And now, Lilly was on her feet, bouncing on her heels. What was better than a proposal? A double proposal! 

“You two are the best,” Lilly whispered as Logan shifted down onto one knee beside a jittery and oblivious Veronica.

“Logan, there’s something important I— _OH!_ ”

“Veronica?”

Veronica’s hand fell in her lap, ring box clasped tight, as she stared in disbelief at Logan kneeling in the dirt before her. Logan, equally baffled, nearly dropped his ring in the dirt as he stared quizzically at the box in her lap. 

“I need popcorn!” Lilly lamented.

Yeah, she didn’t need to eat, but it was _fun_ to eat. Did she dare waste mojo on seeking some out? For the engagement of her only love and her best friend? Exceptions clearly needed to be made.

Sucking in a deep breath, she drew upon her energy and summoned a bag of popcorn from her favourite movie theatre in Los Angeles. Extra large, extra butter, fluffy kernels. _YUM_. Grabbing a handful, she settled down on her boulder once more and eagerly watched the proposal unfold.

Veronica’s hand clenched tightly around the ring box in her lap, her gaze fixed upon Logan. “Are you… is this…”

Glancing down at the box in his hand, Logan smiled nervously. “Um, well… Yes. But I’m a little confused by the box in _your_ hand.”

“Oh! This old thing?” Veronica nervously breezed. “I… Great minds?”

Crunching a mouthful of popcorn, Lilly grinned as the two of them blushed bright pink. _They’re so adorable, I could scream._

“So… do we flip a coin? GQ didn’t offer guidance on what to do if your potential bride-to-be decides she’d like to also propose,” Logan quipped.

“I don’t know! I don’t… This was already freaking me out, but the moment felt _right_ , but now you’re doing the _kneeling thing_ , so should I just let you do it? I should, shouldn’t I? What was I thinking?”

“That’s the problem: you’re _thinking_ again!” Lilly groaned, spilling popcorn on the ground as she rose from her boulder. “Logan, fix it!”

Logan’s hand closed over Veronica’s, his smile warm and reassuring. “You were thinking you loved me, like I was thinking I loved you. Right?”

Veronica nodded furiously, drawing a steadying breath. “Yeah. I do. I love you.”

“There’s no pressure here, Veronica. I have an idea. Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking right before you reached for your ring? Tell me why you bought a ring, and then I’ll tell you my reasons.” Logan’s fingers caressed Veronica’s cheek, tucking her loose curls behind her ear.

Staring down at her lap, Veronica smiled. “Are you sure? I mean, you could just… do the _kneeling thing_ and forget all about what dumb things I might have planned to say.”

“Are you kidding me? You’ve always had a gift with words.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Says the man with the Epic speech in his back pocket.”

Lilly tossed her hair back, popping a kernel of buttery corn in her mouth. “She’s got you there, babe. That speech was fabulous.”

The Alterna-Prom. Ooh, Lilly was still pissed about how that night ended! She’d noticed Logan practicing that speech before the party and had dressed up, expecting a romantic reunion. Red strapless dress, spike heels on, she’d danced all night, waiting for Logan to find the courage to confess his love. _And then, he had!_ It was incredible!

But what had Veronica done? She’d run away. Which, in retrospect, was totally a Veronica thing to do, but Lilly was furious. She’d tried to stall the elevator, keep Veronica in the Grand until she came to her senses, but she was a baby Ghost then, and her powers had amounted to little more than a power flicker and a shudder at the ground floor. 

“Ladies first,” Logan insisted gently.

Lilly circled around the bench to stand behind it, positioning herself between the couple. Veronica’s hands were fidgeting with her ring box, but she was still brimming with that wonderful love energy that had summoned Lilly here. 

_Come on, Veronica! We talked about this!_

“I’ve known you since I was twelve years old,” Veronica began quietly, “and while we’ve drifted apart and had difficult times, at the core, we’ve always been connected. You and I have always wanted to protect each other, and _be protected_ by each other. It took me a while to see that when we were younger—mostly because you didn’t know how to trust anyone enough to ask for that—but once you could, it was all I ever wanted to do. I wanted to be the person who could keep you safe, who could give you the love you needed and deserved.”

Lilly’s hand rested on Logan’s shoulder as he trembled. The contact sent a surge of sorrow and pain flooding through her—memories of abuse, of pain coming to his mind. _Oh, Logan. I let you down, but she’s going to take care of you forever._

“And even when I was broken and too messed up to open myself up to all the love you were trying to give back to me, you still kept trying. Whenever I needed you, I knew you would come if I called. You are, and have always been my security, Logan. My safe place. My home.” Veronica’s hand reached for his, holding it tightly. “You know how I feel about marriage. You know what I’ve seen. I wasn’t sure why we’d need a ring and the government to prove what I already know: that you’re the one I’m staying with forever. But then I thought about what _you_ grew up with, and what _you_ have seen. And maybe you need the security I feel, to know I will always come back to you, too. Maybe you need the promise. And I will give you anything, Logan, because you have given me everything.”

“Veronica…”

“So, if marriage is making the promise in my heart official, I will make it with you. Will you make it with me?” she asked.

Lilly squealed, spinning in a circle as Logan pulled her best friend into an intense kiss. “Oh, it’s happening! FINALLY!”

Her skin glowed a brilliant pink as Veronica hummed happily against Logan’s lips, her ring still clutched in her hand. So many plans for her two favourite people to make. But first, Logan owed Veronica one more speech. This was, after all, a double proposal. That was what Logan had promised, no? Her finger dug into Logan’s arm and he startled slightly.

 _Your turn, sailor._ Oh, how amazing would this have been with him in his uniform? _Swoon_. Lilly reached for another handful of popcorn, as anxious as Veronica was to hear Logan speak.

“Veronica,” he began, swallowing hard. “Our story is epic. I had no idea, when I poured out my heart in a… desperate attempt to keep you from leaving me behind forever, how true that speech would be, you know? Years, continents, bloodshed. What we have, it hasn’t come easy, but it’s come with so much beauty. Everything it took for us to get here, to what we have now, it’s proven we are strong enough to survive anything the world can throw at us.”

 _Except bullets, but I’ve got you two covered_ , Lilly thought to herself. _And faulty fuel tanks on jets._ She was _so_ happy he would be flying less now. Learning the ins and outs of fighter jets was _not_ her idea of afterlife fun.

“From the moment I first saw you in your soccer uniform, I knew I’d always know you.” Veronica laughed softly and Logan shook his head. “I did. I felt it in my gut. The same way I know that no amount of distance or time apart can ever change how much I love you. I never want you to doubt that, Veronica, or be afraid it will change someday. I know how you feel about marriage, and I know all the statistics, but how many couples do you know that have been pulled apart like us, only to reunite again and again?”

“And again,” Veronica teased lightly, beaming. “Guinness called last week. Some sort of record business.” 

“We’ve already been tested more than any other couple I’ve ever known. I want to make our own rules, like we always do.” His fingers flipped open the box in his left palm, revealing a brilliant princess-cut diamond nestled in a platinum band with a gentle winding curvature. “Veronica Mars, will you make me the happiest man, and choose me for your husband?”

Brushing aside a tear from her right eye, Veronica’s shaking hands opened her ring box, revealing a platinum band with a tiny baguette diamond embedded within. “I asked you first,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Then I say yes first,” Logan murmured.

“And I say yes, too,” Veronica echoed happily.

Lilly shrieked, her arms flailing in the air. A shower of popcorn cascaded to the ground around her, but she didn’t care. It was finally happening. Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars were finally pulling their heads out of their asses and _getting married_. Oh, she was the happiest phantom! 

Shaking hands exchanged rings, Veronica pausing to show Logan an inscription in hers. Logan’s eyes widened as he read it aloud.

“ _I hear the bells_ …”

“No one writes songs about the ones that come easy,” Veronica replied softly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Lilly grinned as they kissed, turning away to afford them a little privacy in their special moment. Skipping off towards the looming structure of Carhenge, she danced within its metallic framework, feeling the sun’s warmth on her cheeks. It had taken longer than she’d dared imagine after that day outside the Camelot, where she’d pushed Veronica towards Logan in hopes she’d finally _kiss him_ like she’d been secretly thinking about for weeks. Like that old song went, you couldn’t hurry real love, right?

Glancing over at her friends, she noticed them retreating to their rental car, Logan’s arm wrapped protectively around Veronica’s shoulders. _And now you two can take a REAL vacation_ , Lilly enthused. Somewhere fabulous. 

That Hawaiian resort was a total rip-off anyway, Lilly thought angrily. You could hear all the noise from dinner traffic in the Orchid suite. What kind of privacy was that? How could they have fabulous evening sex on their enclosed veranda with half the resort in earshot? No, it simply was _not_ good enough for her best friend and her first love. So maybe she’d knocked a candle into a trash can… and maybe she’d disabled a smoke detector or two… Whatever. She’d made sure nobody was injured! Her imaginary halo was totally intact.

Now, Le Barthélemy Hotel & Spa in St Bart’s? A _dreamy_ destination! Lilly had inspected it this afternoon and it was delicious and soundproof. Which, judging from the way Logan could _not_ keep his hands off Veronica’s ass as she slid into that Mazda just now? They were going to need it.

“Happy engagement day, Veronica Mars,” Lilly whispered.

As she fastened her seat belt, Veronica’s eyes locked on her and Lilly knew she’d been spotted. She blew her friend a kiss, smirking in satisfaction. Veronica’s hand pressed to the window glass in farewell.

 _She’ll be carrying lilies down the aisle, as it should be. After all, I’m the reason they’re together_.

Flowers… That reminded her: they were _also_ going to need bridal magazines, and as Veronica’s unofficial maid of honour, she had work to do. With a wicked grin, Lilly closed her eyes and pictured the head offices of Condé Nast. Time to set-up a complimentary subscription for Mars Investigations for _Brides_ magazine. She couldn’t wait to bookmark the _best_ dresses…

**BONUS CONTENT:**

[The Bench](http://carhenge.com/wp-content/gallery/carhenge-1/StormySky1.jpg)  
[Veronica's Ring](https://www.tiffany.ca/engagement/engagement-rings/tiffany-harmony-round-brilliant-engagement-ring-in-platinum-GRP10865/)  
[Logan's Ring](https://www.tiffany.ca/jewelry/rings/tiffany-essential-band-satin-finish-ring-GRP10494/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW. We made it.
> 
> Cubbie, MB, I do hope it was worth the ride, and the wait. 
> 
> Lilly is all of us, and I had so much fun letting her loose. I have planned for so long that she hijacked their vacation to improve it, so taking this to the end, and letting her fangirl on our collective behalf was satisfying as hell.
> 
> Do me a favour after the January I had and leave me a review. Tell me your favourite parts! Say hi. Remind me never to get behind on writing again, ha ha.


End file.
